


stay here with me

by scoups_ahoy



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Parents, Angst, Anxiety, Child Psychologist Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups is Whipped, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Graduate Student Jeonghan, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Single dad Jeonghan, Strangers to Lovers, Yoon Jeonghan is Whipped, everyone is whipped and soft and gay, it's just 6 years nothing too intense lmao, jc are just really soft in this okay :(((, jeonghan is trying his best and he deserves the world, kim mingyu is the best person in the entire universe, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/scoups_ahoy
Summary: Eight months after his younger sister's death, Jeonghan is struggling.  Between raising his traumatized six year old niece on his own and trying to finish up his master's degree, more often than not he feels like he's merely existing.  Barely hanging on.  He's tired.  Lonely.  Wishing he could find one therapist that understands his niece.  That can help her heal.Then he makes an appointment with newly graduated child psychologist Choi Seungcheol.  And with him, both he and his niece find so much more love and patience (and rabbits!) than they ever thought possible.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 111
Kudos: 584





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/jeonghannieya/status/1281350914155192321?s=20) and then it spiralled into this monster of fluff and angst.
> 
> before we begin i just wanna get sappy and thank my lovely readers, moots, and fellow authors for all their love and support, especially with this fic. so far i've had about seven beta readers for this and without them this never would've gotten off the ground.
> 
> tw: this fic will deal in-depth with anxiety, in both children and adults, as well as selective mutism and ptsd in children following the death of a parent. it's not going to be easy but i've tried my best to counteract it with fluff. i've also tried my best to research as much as i can so i can write a realistic, healthy fic.
> 
> thank you all and enjoy! <3

**one.**

Jeonghan’s not sure he’s ever been this exhausted before - and with the way his life is now, that’s saying a lot.

He can barely keep his eyes open as he drives, can’t even focus on the pop music playing quietly through the car speakers - even if it is more for him than for Dasom. The longer he sits here in the driver’s seat, fatigue trying its best to weigh him down, the more the steering wheel looks like a viable spot to nap. And that’s obviously not _good,_ but last night had been another sleepless one - work and school piling up until he felt like he’d drown but there was nothing he could do.

 _At least you’re not hungover,_ his mind tries, and he figures that’s one ray of light. Really, with how everything is lately the desire to drink himself stupid every night is definitely more appealing than it used to be. But he can’t do that, at least not as often as he’d like to. For a lot of reasons.

“Hannie?”

_Reason number one._

He glances into the rearview mirror but Dasom isn’t meeting his eyes. Not like he can see hers anyway - with her long black hair covering most of her face he can’t even gauge her expression. She’s resting her little head against the window, a flurry of movement in her lap as she plays with her fingers. And like this, she just looks so small. Younger than her age. Jeonghan knows that has to do with her size - God she’s so tiny for a six year old - but it still makes his heart ache.

His heart is always aching lately.

“Yeah baby?” he asks after turning the music down even more, trying to simultaneously focus on the road and his niece - daughter? - in the backseat. Like this he can better hear the rain pouring down around them, sounding like thunder on the car roof. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head.

Jeonghan sighs. And on autopilot he runs through the list of usual questions to try and pinpoint what’s wrong. _Did you not get enough sleep? Are your shoes too tight? Is it the rain? Are you too cold? Too warm? Is the music too loud?_

Each one of them warrants another shake of her head or a soft “no” whispered through a sheet of thick black hair.

Really, Jeonghan’s pretty certain he knows what the problem is. It’s probably the same thing that’s been weighing him down all week too - as if he doesn’t have enough stress to begin with. “Are you worried about today, baby? Seeing the new doctor?”

A moment, a beat passes by uneventfully. Filled with the sharp sound of rain above them.

Dasom nods.

Jeonghan’s body deflates just a bit. “We talked about this, Sommie,” he tries, his voice as gentle as possible. “I know you don’t like seeing all these doctors - I don’t either, baby - but they’re just trying to help you. _I’m_ just trying to help you. It’s my responsibility as your - your…”

Her what? Uncle? Father? Guardian?

It’s been eight months and he still feels so out of his element.

“Baby, it’ll be good for you,” he finishes.

He glances into the rearview.

Dasom still hasn’t really moved, except for her nervous fingers.

“Besides,” he tries, “my professor said this one is young.” _Inexperienced._ “He might be able to help you.” _Misdiagnose you._

“I want my mommy,” Dasom whispers, small voice thick with tears she won’t shed. Never sheds.

 _I want her back too,_ Jeonghan almost says. But he doesn’t. He just gives Dasom a soft smile she doesn’t see and tries to refocus on the road in front of them, no matter how blurry it is.

He holds Dasom so close as they walk from the car to the office, keeping her as dry as he can under their one umbrella. His school bag is slung over his other shoulder, weighing it down with an ache he’s used to at this point. And Dasom clings to him, little arms wrapped in a vice grip around his neck.

For a moment it’s just the two of them (like it’s been for months). Just the two of them against the rain and the cold.

And then they step into the office.

It’s warm in here. The kind of warmth that feels so inviting. Like home.

Somehow, with just one hand, Jeonghan manages to close the umbrella and slide the compact thing back into his bag. And then he takes better stock of the area around them.

The waiting room is lit rather warmly too, with an assortment of mismatched, but comfortable-looking chairs. In one of the corners, next to a bookshelf, sits an array of pillows and stuffed animals and in another corner there’s a play table, full of LEGOs and blocks. Adorning the walls are posters and art of various characters - princesses, Anpanman, Marvel superheroes. Baby animals too. All in all it looks exactly like the other offices they’ve been to the last few months. Though Dasom’s eyes do light up at the number of books on that bookshelf.

Holding tight to her still, Jeonghan approaches the check-in desk. Besides the young man sitting on the other side, Jeonghan and Dasom are the only people here - which is the beauty of early appointments on the weekends (and Jeonghan sends up a grateful thought that waking up at seven for something not school related isn’t on Dasom’s list of things to fight Jeonghan on).

And with bright eyes, the young man, whose name tag reads “Seungkwan”, looks up at them. He sets aside the book he was reading - Jeonghan can all but see Dasom eyeing its hundreds of pages with wide, curious eyes - and breaks into a bright smile that crinkles his eyes.

It’s infectious in a way that makes Jeonghan irritable - he doesn’t feel like smiling right now, nor does he really have the energy, but he does anyway.

Dasom buries her face in his neck.

“Good morning!” Seungkwan chirps at them both. “Do you have an appointment with us today?"

Jeonghan nods, the words already tumbling out of his mouth before Seungkwan finishes speaking. He just - they’ve done this _so much._ “Yoon Dasom, an eight a.m. with Dr. Choi.”

(The fifth Dr. Choi they’ve seen overall.)

Dasom’s fingers bunch in the collar of his shirt.

He rubs her small, tensed back.

_She’s so tense always so tense she’s six years old why is she so tense_

Seungkwan types something into his computer and smiles again. “Ah yes! It looks like Dr. Choi isn’t quite in yet - he texted me that he was almost here a couple minutes ago - “

There’s a sudden burst behind them and for a moment the warmth in the room is broken by the cold howl of the wind, the pouring rain outside - and then they’re all safe again as the doors close once more.

Jeonghan turns to see a man that can’t be more than a few years older than him rush in. He’s in a black hoodie but his dark hair is wet, sticking to his forehead, dripping onto his round glasses… Truly, he looks like a certifiable mess (if there’s anyone who has the authority to diagnose that, it’s Yoon Jeonghan). And then he smiles. Somehow, it’s a lot more infectious than this Seungkwan’s - no, this smile makes Jeonghan blush with its intensity, its sincerity.

He can’t look away.

“Are you Jeonghan-ssi?” the newcomer asks, in a smooth, deep voice.

He nods. “I am. You must be… Dr. Choi.”

This doesn’t bode well. Dasom’s possible new psychologist showing up almost late, soaking wet, in a _hoodie?_

Do they even bother staying?

“I am!” the new man - Dr. Choi, it would seem - responds, and then his big brown eyes fall a bit to Dasom’s curled, clingy form.

He doesn’t look at her the way some of the other psychologists have. Like she’s something to dissect. An anomaly.

No, Dr. Choi’s gaze is soft and warm. Kind.

“And you must be Dasom.”

She tries to bury herself deeper into Jeonghan’s grip and his heart clenches for putting her through this. For forcing her to come to these appointments when they never do any good. When they never _help_ the way she needs.

And if Dr. Choi’s fazed by the way she ignores him, he doesn’t show it. Just turns those kind eyes to Jeonghan. “If you two are ready, I’ll take you back now.”

Dasom whines quietly, just low enough that only Jeonghan can hear it. And he sighs. “Give us just a second, Doctor.”

“Of course,” he says with a nod. “Uh, if you two would rather come back on your own when you’re ready, I’m in room two.”

For a moment, Jeonghan watches him walk away and subconsciously his brain registers the fact that this Dr. Choi is wearing loose-fitting jeans and Converse as well. But he doesn’t have time to process what that means because Dasom clings to him even harder, even tighter, squeezing the bones in his neck to the point where it almost hurts.

“Baby,” he whispers, turning away from Seungkwan. And at this point his motions feel robotic. He rubs her back, bounces her gently, combs slow fingers through her thick hair. They do this _so often._ “Baby, it’s okay. We’ll do whatever you want after this, remember? Ice cream, or a nap, or we can watch the bunnies.”

 _The bunnies_ referring to an old National Geographic DVD Jeonghan had found at a thrift store two years ago. It’s entirely in English but that hasn’t stopped it from becoming Dasom’s favorite movie.

And even at its mention she perks up a bit. Releases the chokehold she has on him. Pulls back with wide, misty eyes and he takes this opportunity to kiss her.

“You’re so brave, Dasommie,” he murmurs, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “My sweet, brave girl. You do so well, baby, and you can do this today. I’ll be right there with you.”

Just like he has through everything.

Dasom nods.

“Are you ready, baby?”

She nods again, though this time she’s a lot more hesitant.

And so they go back. The hallway is short, with two rooms on each side, and the door labelled “2” is decorated on the outside with an assortment of stickers and pictures much like the ones in the waiting room. Jeonghan bites back a wry chuckle as he opens the door.

Dr. Choi is bustling around his office like Jeonghan does around the house when he forgets he has a guest coming over. And at the sound of the door closing he snaps straight up and meets Jeonghan’s gaze with a flustered smile.

“Let’s do this,” he says, like they’re here for a movie and not a therapy session.

Jeonghan sighs softly.

Dr. Choi motions to a soft-looking couch on the other side of his desk and Jeonghan is able to sit down without jostling Dasom too much. But still she clings to him, content to keep her face buried in his neck.

Which isn’t exactly conducive to meeting new people. Especially new people who are supposed to help her navigate the heavy trauma her six year old brain refuses to process.

Or so Jeonghan’s been told.

He pats her back as he meets Dr. Choi’s warm gaze. “Baby, how do we greet strangers?”

She shakes her head.

The smile gracing Dr. Choi’s features only grows.

_I’m glad someone’s amused._

“Yoon Dasom,” he says quietly, working to keep his voice gentle so he doesn’t push her. “How do we greet strangers, baby?”

She sighs, like she’s annoyed with him (her sass is going to be the death of him, he just knows it), and then shifts halfway so that at least Dr. Choi is in her peripheral vision. And Dr. Choi kneels in front of them. God, he looks so eager. Bright, wide eyes, soft smile. But to his credit he doesn’t push Dasom either. Doesn’t ask her for more than she can give. So they all wait. They wait until Dasom works up the courage - tugging desperately at her fingers all the while - to face Dr. Choi fully. But Jeonghan knows she isn’t meeting his gaze; her eyes are either closed, downcast, or she’s hiding behind her hair.

It’s a start. One that was nearly impossible eight months ago.

And then she’s digging her fingers into Jeonghan’s leg and he reaches down to stroke them, to ease the tension there before she scratches him bloody.

Again.

“Dasom?” Dr. Choi asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Can I call you Dasom?”

She nods.

His smile widens. “Thank you. Dasom, my name is Dr. Choi - well that’s really more of a title but…” He blushes a bit in his own awkwardness and Jeonghan bites back a smirk. _This guy…_ “Anyway. When you’re ready you can call me Dr. Choi if you want. Or Seungcheol - that’s my given name. Or even Cheol, which is a nickname.”

She nods.

So does he. “I want you to know that I’m not going to push you, Dasom. I’m here to help you, as long as that takes, whatever you need. I am here to support you, just like your Jeonghan. We will do this at your own pace. Do you understand?”

She nods a third time, small fingers finally relaxing beneath Jeonghan’s.

“Good,” Dr. Choi says. For a brief moment his eyes flick up to Jeonghan’s and they regard each other. There’s something about his gaze, something that leaves Jeonghan aching in a way he can’t describe. And he’s not sure _why._ If it’s just him, if it’s Dr. Choi - if he feels it too.

If it’s even _anything._

In that same moment Dasom curls back into his neck and Jeonghan’s thoughts are cut short - just _Dasom_ \- as he strokes her hair, murmurs soft words of praise that he hopes don’t sound cursory to her at this point. A patch of color catches his eye and he glances over at a small table, much like the one out front, with a box of assorted markers on top of it, next to a stack of printer paper.

“Look baby,” he murmurs, patting Dasom’s back encouragingly, and she ever so slowly looks up from Jeonghan’s neck. “Dr. Choi has some markers. Do you wanna go draw?”

She sits quietly on his lap and just looks at the setup for a few silent moments. And he can see the wheels turning in her head, as she thinks. As she analyzes. After a glance at him she carefully slides off his lap and makes her way on slow, uncertain legs towards the table. Jeonghan doesn’t look away until she sits herself comfortably on one of the plastic chairs and reaches for the tub of markers and a piece of paper.

When he glances over at Dr. Choi, he catches wide, inquisitive eyes and blushes. “Uh, thank you for seeing us today. Dr. Song really had nothing but praise for you.”

He smiles bashfully, ducking his head beneath a mop of damp, curling hair. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I know I’m young and inexperienced, actually Dasom is my first ever client - “

Jeonghan bites back a sigh.

“ - but I’ll try my best.”

_So did all the others._

“That’s all we can do, right?” Jeonghan says instead. And he takes a few moments to get comfortable on the couch, crossing and uncrossing his legs several times before he opts for simply placing his feet on the floor in the end.

Dasom sits quietly, markers scratching lightly across the paper.

Dr. Choi watches him with careful eyes.

And Jeonghan _hates_ it. He’s always hated psychologists, always hated being analyzed. Examined. Like an animal in a zoo. Thankfully, most of the others tended to ignore him but this Dr. Choi… Jeonghan’s not sure what to make of his gaze. But it makes him simultaneously want to shrink into the couch or stare back out of spite.

“So,” Dr. Choi says as he looks at his computer. “We talked a bit on the phone but there are a few things we need to take care of before we start. We’ll - “

“I know,” Jeonghan says, not unkindly. “We’ve done this a lot.”

He gives a slight smile. “So you said on the phone.” He clicks on something. “Dasom’s full name is Yoon Dasom?”

“Yes.”

He types that in. “Birthdate?”

“Oh-one-oh-nine-fourteen.”

He types that in. “And you are her father?”

Jeonghan glances over at Dasom digging for a specific marker. No doubt blue, her favorite. “According to the paperwork I filed a few months ago, I am her legal guardian. But I guess I’m also her uncle.”

Dr. Choi’s long fingers still on the keyboard though his eyes remain on the screen. But if there’s something he wants to say, he doesn’t. He just takes a breath and continues typing. Jeonghan’s grateful, even though they’ll have to discuss _that_ later. He’s just… not ready now.

They go through the basics - address, phone numbers and emergency contacts, emails, etc. The responses come out automatically, Jeonghan hears the monotone rasp in his voice. And then Dr. Choi sits back with a soft look on his face.

Dasom reaches for a new piece of paper.

“So,” Dr. Choi says again, “why don’t you go ahead and tell me as much as you can about Dasom? Just… anything that comes to mind.”

Jeonghan cocks an eyebrow at this. “You’re not gonna ask any specific questions?”

He shrugs a bit, reaches out to brush his drying hair out of his eyes, out of his glasses. “I might if anything comes to mind. I just… I want to hear about her in your words. I want to hear what you think is important. I know - because you told me - you’ve done this a lot. So I’m not gonna ask you a bunch of stupid, repetitive questions you’ve heard a hundred times before. Obviously they didn’t get anyone anywhere.”

“That’s true,” Jeonghan sighs. And then his mind goes into information mode, trying to sift and figure out what to tell, what to talk about.

There’s so _much._

But Dr. Choi sits quietly, just watching him with those eyes.

Dasom bites her lip as she draws.

Jeonghan draws a breath in and meets the doctor’s gaze. “She’s always been so smart, so bright. Ever since she was born. And - and until what happened she never had problems talking or communicating.”

He nods. Types. Sighs. “Are you ready to talk with me about what happened? It’s something we should at least address early on so that I know what I’m working with but…”

Jeonghan opens his mouth and then stops. None of the others have asked him that. They just assumed he could. They just… asked it of him. “Yeah,” he says mechanically. Scared of what he might say if he actually thinks about it. _One of us should be able to talk about it._

Dr. Choi looks at him again, in that diagnostic, yet kind, way. Like he’s trying to see through to his soul but not in a ‘break him in half, see what makes him tick’ kind of way. Like he cares.

How strange.

“Only if you’re sure,” the doctor says. “I know on the phone you said she’s all but stopped talking, so obviously whatever happened…”

“Her mother died,” Jeonghan says quietly, the words tumbling out and he doesn’t really stop them because at this point, it feels like everyone in Seoul knows. So what’s one more person? “My - my younger sister. Accidentally overdosed on sleeping pills and Dasom… Dasom found her.”

Something falls on Dr. Choi’s face and he turns soft, wide eyes towards Dasom for a quiet moment. And the urge to sweep her back into his arms, to let her bury her face in his neck and hide her from the world and its pity is so strong Jeonghan almost does it. But he doesn’t; he just stays where he is and pretends like he doesn’t notice that Dasom’s stopped drawing.

“That’s horrible,” Dr. Choi whispers as his expressive eyes flick back to Jeonghan. “How long ago was this? A few months, you said?”

He nods. “Eight,” he responds around the seemingly perpetual lump in his throat.

“And ever since she’s had issues communicating?”

“Mostly in class and with strangers,” Jeonghan says. “She still talks to me but it’s… it’s not a lot. And usually not more than a whisper unless she’s really excited about something.”

Dr. Choi nods thoughtfully, lips pursed. And then he goes back to typing.

Dasom goes back to drawing.

Jeonghan breathes a soft sigh of relief.

“She seems to enjoy drawing,” Dr. Choi comments quietly.

Their eyes meet and something in his warm gaze tells Jeonghan that that’s it, that they’re not talking anymore about her mutism or what she went through today.

And Jeonghan’s grateful. Because he’s not sure he has it in him, really.

So they spend most of the rest of the hour just talking about Dasom. Anything that comes to Jeonghan’s mind, he says. They talk about her love of drawing, how Jeonghan reads aloud to her every night, how she makes sure Jeonghan eats enough at dinner. That she hates crowds. That she worries more than she should. That she doesn’t smile anymore. And Dr. Choi writes it all down. Sometimes he makes comments, but they don’t seem probing, analytical. No, it feels more like he’s just engaged in what Jeonghan’s talking about. Like they’re old friends catching up.

Really, everything about this Dr. Choi has that feeling. From his warm eyes, his handsome face and fond smile to his slightly oversized hoodie and smooth, sincere voice… he’s not like any other psychologist Jeonghan has ever encountered. And he can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. If he likes that. But he _is_ easy to talk to, Jeonghan finds. Like the professional barrier that should’ve been put up between them never was.

During a lull in the conversation, Dasom slides off of the chair with all her papers in hand and immediately climbs back into Jeonghan’s lap. She’s antsy, eyes darting around quickly, restlessly, and Jeonghan sighs.

“We’re almost done today, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. “Just a few more minutes, okay? You’re doing so well.”

She thrusts the papers into his hands with a shy look and Jeonghan takes them.

And just like they do at home, as if pretending Dr. Choi isn’t even here, Jeonghan looks through them with her. One of the first therapists they met said doing this was good, that they should keep up routines no matter where they were, no matter who they were with - that that would help Dasom feel safe anywhere.

Unfortunately for them, that same therapist had asked one too many times to see Dasom’s artwork.

They hadn’t been able to return to her office without Dasom crying in fear.

For all of their sakes, Jeonghan hopes Dr. Choi keeps his mouth shut and just lets them have this moment.

Like usual, Dasom’s work features animals. Specifically, rabbits. White rabbits, brown rabbits, spotted rabbits. Rabbits sleeping, rabbits eating, rabbits hopping. They’re honestly precious and Jeonghan looks through them with a smile on his face, as Dasom rests her head on his shoulder.

“Look how talented you are, baby,” he murmurs. “And look at all your bunnies. Do they have names?”

“Bunnies?”

Dasom tenses at the sound of Dr. Choi’s voice.

Jeonghan looks up at him, at the bright, youthful look on his face, and it’s not fair that this man is so handsome. So _warm._ “Bunnies are Dasom’s favorite animal. Right, baby?”

She nods.

Dr. Choi’s smile widens even more than Jeonghan thought was possible, crinkling his big eyes almost completely shut. “I have two bunnies myself. Do you want to see some pictures of them, Dasom?”

Dasom perks up again.

Jeonghan bites back a smile of his own, placing Dasom’s papers on his lap to rub her back. “Dr. Choi asked you a question, baby. Do you wanna see pictures of his bunnies?”

She nods once more.

And then, looking more like a gleeful child than a psychologist with a doctorate degree from Yonsei University hanging up in his office, Dr. Choi makes his way over, phone in hand. Again he kneels in front of them and holds out his phone, already unlocked and bunnies waiting onscreen, for Dasom to take. And after some gentle encouragement from them both, Dr. Choi’s eyes quite literally sparkling, Dasom begins swiping through the pictures.

And Jeonghan looks with her. One of the rabbits is massive, a soft tawny color with big, wide ears, and the other is a lot smaller with floppy ears and a lot of fur. Jeonghan thinks he knows what breeds they are - Dasom can list them like the alphabet - but he isn’t sure.

Besides, with the excited way Dasom gasps when she sees them, well…

Dr. Choi just laughs, a soft sound that somehow manages to shake his shoulders. “They’re cute, huh? Do you know what breeds they are, Dasom?”

She nods, eyes glued to the phone. “Flem - “

And her voice dies in her throat as quickly as it came, along with the glimmer of hope in Jeonghan’s heart at hearing her sweet voice full of excitement, full of - of _life._

But Dr. Choi doesn’t seem fazed by it; he just nods with that gummy grin. “You’re right. Bean is a Flemish giant and Boop is an American fuzzy lop.”

“Bean and Boop?” Jeonghan parrots as he raises an eyebrow.

On his lap, both of Jeonghan's arms wrapped around her small body, Dasom relaxes again.

“Yeah,” Dr. Choi says and there’s that _look_ again. The one that makes Jeonghan’s throat close up and he can’t even begin to explain why. “My friend’s sister named them - she’s from America and said those would be very cute names.”

Jeonghan nods and ever so gently rests his chin on the top of Dasom’s thick black head of hair. “Aren’t they precious, baby? What do we say to Dr. Choi?”

“It’s okay,” Dr. Choi cuts in before Dasom can even open her mouth (like she would). “Really, she doesn’t - doesn’t have to talk to me yet.” And then he grimaces, a soft pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I mean - I’m sorry, Jeonghan-ssi, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to invalidate your, um, your parenting, um…”

Just like that he’s the young man he looks like: nervous and flustered and so endearingly awkward, Jeonghan can’t help not being mad at him. Really, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Just irked.

But if this is how Dr. Choi wants to do it, if not pushing Dasom is what he thinks will work - then that’s exactly what they’ll do.

He just hopes it works.

“Don’t worry about it, doctor,” Jeonghan says softly, offering him a smile as Dasom continues looking at the rabbits. “I didn’t take offense to it. Besides, you’re right.” He reaches a gentle hand up towards Dasom’s hair to play with it, letting the thick strands sift between his fingers the way she likes. “Dasommie, you don’t need to talk yet, okay baby? Don’t feel like you have to.”

She hums quietly in response, focus decidedly elsewhere now that the danger of thanking Dr. Choi is gone.

Dr. Choi just looks at Jeonghan for another moment, pretty eyes curious, before turning his attention back to Dasom. And he sits like that for their last minutes, on his knees in front of them, telling Dasom stories about his rabbits. She listens intently, even if she doesn’t comment - Jeonghan can tell because, for once, she’s not a ball of tensed up six year old on his lap.

She actually feels somewhat like she used to.

Honestly there are snippets of that more often than Jeonghan usually seems to remember: when they’re (he’s) cooking and he ends up with some kind of ingredient all over his clothes and she giggles so loud and bright, just like her mother; when her teacher said they would go on a field trip to the zoo and she’d spent all night talking to Jeonghan about what animals she hoped to see there (she’d had a panic attack maybe fifteen minutes into the trip so he’d had to take her home, unfortunately); when they finished the first Harry Potter book and she wanted to stay up all night and talk about it.

That’s why it hurts so bad to see her like this. And a part of him refuses to believe it’s her new normal, that she won’t always be like this.

There’s a lot of evidence to the contrary though.

Eventually their time with Dr. Choi ends and Jeonghan bids him good day with an all but vibrating Dasom buried in his neck. In the waiting room he fishes out the umbrella and waves to a smiling Seungkwan (who waves back). And it’s not till it’s just the two of them in the car, Dasom all buckled and ready to go, that Jeonghan says something.

“Did you like him, Sommie?”

He pretends like his heart isn’t pounding, waiting for a response, _please say yes._

She sits quietly for a moment, rain thrumming on the car’s roof. And then she meets his gaze. “He has bunnies,” she whispers. “I like - I like the bunnies.”

That’s enough.

Sometimes Jeonghan feels like a shell of a human being. Nights like these especially.

Graveyard shift at the convenience store down the block, half of his mind at home with Dasom, the other half engrossed in the textbook in front of him, he feels like he’s not really living. That he’s just… existing. The lack of sleep doesn’t help, nor does the homework. But it’s a lingering feeling, one he always seems to have when it’s late at night and he’s alone with his thoughts.

Really, he’s not even sure why convenience stores are open this late - who needs ramyeon at one am? - but he tries to tell himself to be grateful because if they weren’t… well he wouldn’t have a job. And who knows where he and Dasom would be living, then.

He sighs and tries to get himself to focus fully on the same paragraph he’s read four times in a row, but his head is starting to ache beneath the bright fluorescent lights and he just wants to sleep. He’s been up since six a.m. on four hours of sleep and no amount of “free” (stolen where the security cameras can’t catch him) coffee is helping.

It never does.

Post-appointment had found them snuggled up on the couch eating ice cream and watching The Bunnies even though it was maybe ten am and ice cream isn’t breakfast (you try telling that to an anxious six year old), and then Jeonghan dove right into homework while Dasom napped. He’d gotten behind during the week so a nap for himself was totally out of the question and before he knew it it was nine pm; time to lock up the apartment and leave Dasom with his phone and the store’s number on speed dial just in case.

Nights like these, Jeonghan also feels like a bad father.

Uncle. Guardian. Whatever he is.

Not for the first time in the last hour the words on the page look more bleary than sharp and he closes the book with a huff. Fuck Korean history, really. Why’d he have to pick such a stupid major? Hell, why’d he have to be born in such an old country? If he were born in the United States he wouldn’t be having this problem. You know if he was one of those kids that was at all close with his parents he might send them a not so sarcastic text asking why the hell he was born in Seoul and not -

The bell above the door jingles and Jeonghan snaps to attention, unfortunately conditioned to do so after seven months here. He pushes his stupid textbook out of sight as he waits for his new, hoodie-clad customer to either leave or bring something to the counter.

Or rob him.

Sighing he tries his best to push the thought from his mind - _just because it happened down the street doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen to you. Just because the robber was in a black hoodie and it was late and… and…_

His hand shakes as he reaches just below the countertop, to make sure the panic button is still there. The one he’s never had to press. God, just the thought of needing to push it brings a tightness to his chest but he tries to breathe through it.

Especially as the big, hoodie-clad man begins his journey to the counter, a collection of energy drinks tucked between one arm and his body and then a few packs of ramyeon in his other hand. He stops at the counter, deposits his items, tugs down his black mask and -

“Dr. Choi?” Jeonghan frowns.

The look on his handsome face - wide eyes, jaw dropped - is almost laughable until he regains his composure, and then Jeonghan feels bad for wanting to chuckle. He’s _tired_ \- the dark circles under his eyes that Jeonghan didn’t notice earlier, still hidden behind thin, wire-frame glasses, the soft smattering of stubble on his jaw, the sleepy slope of his eyelids - all in all, he looks more like a college student than a psychologist.

Especially when you factor in the Red Bulls and kimchi ramyeon.

And the blush painting his cheeks.

“Uh, I didn’t know you worked here,” Dr. Choi murmurs quietly. “Otherwise I would’ve… you know, not dressed like this.”

Jeonghan doesn’t have the heart - or the energy - to point out that it’s almost exactly what he wore this morning, just with ratty sweatpants instead of loose jeans, so he just gives him a soft smile as he reaches for the Red Bulls to ring them up. “It’s okay. It’s like an alternate universe in here. I’ve seen a couple of my exes in here buying condoms with their new boyfriend next to them and they pretend like they don’t know me. It’s wild.”

Dr. Choi smiles that warm smile of his and just like that, all of Jeonghan’s anxiety is gone.

He moves his other hand from the panic button.

“If I saw any of my exes in my line of work,” Dr. Choi says, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, “I don’t think I’d be very excited about that.”

“Is it ever exciting to see an ex?” Jeonghan responds, talking over the sharp _beep_ that comes as each item is scanned.

He sighs lightly and takes his card out. “You can, um, you can call me Seungcheol if you want, by the way. Dr. Choi is - “

“What, your father?” He grins at his own stupid joke.

But Seungcheol doesn’t smile. Actually his face kind of falls a bit, like it did when Jeonghan brought up his sister. And then Jeonghan feels bad again.

See? Shell of a human being.

“What are you doing up so late, Seungcheol?” he asks in the awkward silence that follows.

“Can’t sleep. Stressed.”

He starts bagging Seungcheol’s items and meets his tired gaze. “You know, you should see a therapist about that.”

This time his dumb joke makes Seungcheol smile, the one that leaves Jeonghan’s stomach fluttering, and it feels like the first win he’s had all day. “Speaking of, how’s - how’s Dasom?”

“She’s good,” he answers truthfully, as his mind sorts through the rest of their day. “So excited about your rabbits, so thank you. I think we’ll be staying with you for a while.”

It was meant to be a simple comment, something easily brushed away, but Seungcheol seems to latch onto it as his eyes shine in the washed-out lights. “Yeah? I’m glad to hear it. I think I could really help her. At least, I-I want to.”

Jeonghan announces his total and Seungcheol pushes his card into the chip reader gently. “Thank you,” and it comes out quieter than he wants. More vulnerable. “She… she needs it.”

“I have a theory, actually, on how to do that.” When the machine beeps he removes his card and meets Jeonghan’s eyes. It feels strangely intimate, making eye contact over an unhealthy assortment of energy drinks and instant noodles with his niece’s therapist at one-oh-six in the morning at his place of work. But intimate nonetheless.

“What’s your theory?” Jeonghan asks softly, feeling only a little bit entranced by the light in Seungcheol’s big, brown eyes.

He leans forward like he’s sharing all the secrets of the universe, and Jeonghan feels drawn to him, the soft curve of his plush lips as he smiles, the way his two front teeth seem moderately bigger than all the rest. He blames it on the late hour and the lack of sleep. “It revolves around you, actually.” And before Jeonghan can even respond, he continues, “Obviously you and Dasom are incredibly close and she feels comfortable around you - comfortable enough that you’re probably the only person she speaks to on a regular basis. Which leads me to my theory: if she sees that you’re comfortable around me… maybe she’ll open up to me in a way she didn’t with the other therapists.”

It’s not a bad idea, if Jeonghan’s being honest. He’s just not sure… “How would we go about it, though?”

He shrugs a bit. “Maybe next session we’ll talk more about you, if you’re okay with that.”

Jeonghan bites his lip as the thought strikes a new chord of anxiety in his heart, reverberating through his body in pangs of breathlessness. “Um, I don’t - “

“Don’t worry,” Seungcheol says quietly, seriously. “I’m not going to psychoanalyze you. We’ll just talk and let Dasom know that I’m a friend. Someone she can trust.”

Before he can even really process it, Jeonghan finds himself nodding. It’s just something in Seungcheol’s face, his voice, that makes Jeonghan agree to anything he says.

What was that word he said? Trust. That’s it - Seungcheol seems trustworthy.

Sincere.

Smiling softly, Seungcheol reaches for the bag at the same time that Jeonghan pushes it towards him - and their fingers brush.

Jeonghan bolts a bit at the warmth from Seungcheol’s skin; it’s been far too long since he’s felt something like it and butterflies form in the pit of his stomach. But then the sensation’s gone as quickly as it came as Seungcheol pulls the bag from the counter and it clinks with the cans. “See you next week then, Jeonghan-ssi. But make sure you call the office ASAP to schedule the appointment, okay?”

Jeonghan watches him go and he has the sudden, sinking feeling that maybe they’re biting off more than they can chew with this Dr. Choi.

He blames the late hour.

And the lack of sleep.

_“You’re not prepared to care for a child, Jeonghan.”_

_He’s in all-black, a suit he hasn’t worn in two years, blonde hair in his eyes and he feels wrong. Out of place. “Then you take her,” he snaps, staring at his hands in his lap._

_“You know we can’t - “_

_He laughs at this. It’s a bleak, sad sound that echoes through the empty room. Just outside are Seoyeon’s closest friends, their extended family. Her daughter. And in here, Jeonghan wants to cower. Wants to hide. Wants to be selfish and cry and scream because how could Seoyeon be so goddamn stupid? Wants to cry and scream because he’s lost his best friend in the entire world and it feels like nothing will ever be okay again. “She’s your fucking granddaughter - “_

_“Do_ not _speak to your mother like that, Yoon Jeonghan.”_

_He rolls his eyes, refusing to look up. “Why not? I stopped considering you my parents the moment - “ A sigh escapes his lips. Now is not the time nor the place; Seoyeon wouldn’t want this. So he stands up, gives his parents one last look, and heads for the door. “I don’t want to hear from either of you after this. As far as I’m concerned… Dasom and I only have each other.”_

_The saddest part? He hears no arguments from them. Not that he thought he would, it’s just… it might’ve been nice._

_The door closes behind him with a sharp_ click _and Dasom’s waiting out in the main funeral hall. Alone. He scoops her up and lets her bury her face in his neck._

_“Come on baby,” he whispers, “let’s go home.”_

_She doesn’t respond, but she clings to him like a lifeline._

The next week, the sun is shining but there’s a biting cold in the air since it’s early March and Jeonghan again holds Dasom so close, but mostly to keep her warm in her coat. She’s definitely overdue for a new one but there’s not a lot of room in the budget so he’ll just wait till the after-winter sales. Seungkwan greets them with another heartwarming smile, cooing over the crappy braid Jeonghan put Dasom’s hair in (Jeonghan shoots the young man a grateful look) and this time Seungcheol isn’t late. Nor does he look as messy. Actually this time he looks a little more like Jeonghan would expect a therapist to look.

He should know. He’s met more than twenty in eight months.

Soft brown hair curling in his glasses, dressed in slacks with a light gray long-sleeved shirt tucked into them, Seungcheol looks professional - and oh so handsome. The kind of handsome Jeonghan wants to keep to himself, as his own selfish crush, because it’s been _months_ since someone made him feel like this (but nothing can come of it for… for more reasons than Jeonghan wants to list). Seungcheol greets them both with a smile, though Dasom doesn’t see it, and with that they head back again.

At least this time, Dasom isn’t trying to crush Jeonghan’s neck in her little arms. He’s definitely grateful for that.

While he and Seungcheol talk, Dasom once again takes up residence at the drawing table, hands moving furiously as she sketches and colors. Truth be told, Jeonghan’s never seen her work with such concentrated passion before and more than once he loses track of his and Seungcheol’s conversation because he’s too busy watching his baby. And when she turns to look at him, ears and cheeks tinged red under his gaze, he asks if she’s having fun.

She always nods and then puts her pointer finger up to her lips: _secret._

Jeonghan just grins to himself.

Sometimes Seungcheol asks her a question and she responds with a shake of her head or a nod, whatever the answer might require. And to his credit, Seungcheol only sticks with yes or no questions. Easy things that hardly pull her attention from her drawings.

When they leave that day she approaches Seungcheol with her head down and hands him some of her papers.

According to the childish, ungodly noise Seungcheol makes, she drew Bean and Boop. Several times. Seungcheol also tells him this, grin wide and gummy, waving the papers too quickly for Jeonghan to actually see them.

But his heart warms all the same.

And then Seungcheol kneels in front of her so they’re sort of eye-level, even though she continues to duck her head. He’s got such a tender look on his face, gaze soft and entreating.

“Dasom, these are incredible,” he says quietly. “You are so talented.”

It’s all she can talk about on the way home, sounding more excited and livelier than Jeonghan’s heard her in weeks.

Jeonghan can’t get Seungcheol’s sweet, gentle smile out of his head.

And then two days later, that Monday, Jeonghan’s forced from his Ancient Korean History class at nine-thirty with a call from Dasom’s principal.

By the time he gets to the campus he’s cold and tired and angry enough to fight whichever teacher it is that sent Dasom to the principal’s office this time. Apparently it shows on his face because Principal Hong stops him just outside his door, with placating hands and a beseeching look on his young, handsome face. The usual. But Jeonghan’s too mad to notice, hands shaking, and he’s _tired_ of this.

“Who was it this time?” he demands. “I thought I made it clear to Park last time that Dasom doesn’t - “

“Jeonghan,” Joshua says quietly, firmly, and in this moment Jeonghan knows they’re here together as friends. Not as principal and parent.

So he takes a breath, and then another one.

His hands stop shaking.

“I’m sorry you had to come down here,” Joshua murmurs, reaching out to squeeze Jeonghan’s shoulders, “but she kept saying your name, that she wanted you here. She wouldn’t calm down, I didn’t know what else to do - “

“It’s okay, Shua.” Jeonghan exhales slowly as the white-hot anger in his system slowly starts to melt away into concern that burns just as brightly. “Is she all right? What happened?”

“They had a substitute today.”

Jeonghan’s heart sinks and he looks towards Joshua’s office door, wanting nothing more than to scoop Dasom up into his arms and hold her tight. “I want to see her.”

Joshua nods and turns to open his door. Poking his head in he says, “Dasom? Jeonghannie’s - “

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Dasom bursts out of the office and launches herself right at Jeonghan, all thirty-five pounds of her.

He catches her gratefully, letting her nuzzle into his neck, and he leaves kisses up and down the side of her head. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re okay.”

She sniffles and his heart breaks.

“Jeonghan,” Joshua says quietly again, in that way that makes Jeonghan feel like he’s being scolded. But he knows it comes from a good place, because Joshua’s been nothing but gracious and supportive the last several months. He’s gone from kindly strict principal to one of Jeonghan’s closest friends in that amount of time.

He even knows what Dasom’s giggle sounds like.

“We need to talk,” he murmurs. “In my office, please?”

But as close as they are, his job comes first.

Jeonghan can’t blame him.

Holding a still-clinging Dasom to him, Jeonghan follows Joshua into his office and sits down in one of the not-so-comfy chairs opposite the desk. The air in here is cold - it looks more like a college professor’s office than a primary school principal’s.

Dasom breathes heavily against his neck.

“I’ll get right to it,” Joshua says as soon as he sits down, and he looks all business. Frighteningly so. “We need to find a more permanent solution to this, Jeonghan. This is the second week of the semester and she’s already been sent to my office. I don’t need to tell you that we can’t have a repeat of last year - “

Jeonghan bites his lip as the memories come back. Missing the first half of the semester just to be sent to Joshua almost every day when she came back because she was “ignoring the teachers” or scaring the other kids with her panic attacks.

Because no one tried to help her. Or could.

“ - so something needs to be figured out.”

“Like what?” Jeonghan bites, wrapping an arm around Dasom’s small frame, and he can’t stop the anger that resurfaces. “I’m trying everything I can think of, Joshua. I’m trying everything that’s been suggested to me. So if you have any goddamn bright ideas then tell me. Because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

Dasom whines at the snap in his voice.

He shushes her with gentle kisses to her cheek.

For a moment Joshua just sits quietly. He glances at his computer and then back at Jeonghan and he doesn’t like what he sees there, in his gaze. “There’s always special education.”

His words hit like a blow. “She’s not disabled, Joshua. She’s just… she’s…”

“I know that,” and now he’s speaking softly again, and Jeonghan’s reminded of all the times he’s broken down in Joshua Hong’s arms, all the times Joshua’s had to pick the pieces of him up off his office floor. “Han, I know that. But they’re equipped to deal with her there.”

“No they’re not,” he whispers. “They’ll treat her like they treat all of those kids: like she’s stupid. Because she doesn’t talk they’ll write her off as a lost case and she…” Tears threaten, forming a lump in his throat that burns. “Do you know that we finished the first Harry Potter book a few weeks ago? And she comprehended every word?”

Joshua sighs heavily and looks away, towards one of his bare, white walls. “Jeonghan…”

“I’m trying my best. Dasom’s trying her best. Just like all of these kids.” He sniffles, trying to hold back tears he won’t shed in front of Dasom. “She just… she has special circumstances.”

“Are you still seeing Dr. Kim?” he asks gently, meeting Jeonghan’s increasingly watery gaze.

He shakes his head. “He kept insisting she was autistic and refused to treat the root of the problem. But… but we’re seeing someone new. We like him a lot. Don’t we, baby?”

She nods and her grip on him loosens at Seungcheol’s mention. “Bunnies,” she whispers.

“That’s right, baby. He has bunnies.” He draws back to kiss her forehead and then he looks at Joshua. “Just - please be patient with her, Shua. Please. I think this new guy could really help. It just takes time.”

Joshua sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face. But there’s nothing mean or unkind on his face. And Jeonghan’s so goddamn grateful for it, he’ll always be grateful for Joshua. He just needs to get better at showing it. “Okay,” he says. “But only because Dasom is Seokminnie’s favorite girl, right?”

She lifts her head when Joshua mentions his husband and nods. “I miss Uncle Minnie,” she whispers.

And like he always does when Dasom speaks, Joshua smiles. It’s got a sad twinge to it. “I know you do, sweetheart. He misses you too. Maybe you’ll have to come over and we’ll babysit soon. How’s that sound?”

Jeonghan hears what he doesn’t say: _you could use a break._

What would he do without Joshua Hong?

Dasom nods and goes back to hiding in Jeonghan’s neck. Because even though she’s pretty comfortable in Joshua’s presence there’s only so much she says in front of him.

Again, it’s a step.

He rubs her back in silent praise, in silent comfort for his next words, and he actually dreads them because he knows just how Dasom will react and it’s going to destroy him, the way it always does. “Baby, I have to go back to class now.”

Immediately her arms tighten around his neck and she shakes her head.

His heart breaks just a little more, dropping to the pit of his stomach even though he should've seen this coming. _Two steps back._ “Come on, Sommie. We both have to go back to class.” He pulls away to look at her, putting on a smile in the face of her soft eyes, shimmering with tears. “You’re my brave, strong girl, aren’t you baby?”

Dasom shakes her head again, lower lip wavering as she bunches her small fingers in the collar of his shirt. “No, Hannie. I _can’t.”_

He leans his forehead against hers, rubs her back, strokes her hair. Anything he can think of, everything that usually works. But she’s trembling in his arms, struggling for breath, sobbing in front of his eyes, and he _hates_ himself. Hates himself for not being able to help her, hates himself for not being what she needs.

“Hannie, stay,” she whispers, voice cracking through her tears.

He gives in. God, he’s not strong enough for this. Not strong enough to be firm, like a good father. He just nods and kisses her forehead, and somehow this feels like a loss. “Yeah baby, I’ll stay. We’ll go home, okay?”

As they stand up from the chair Jeonghan avoids Joshua’s kind yet disapproving face. They’ve started this conversation before - _“You need to be tougher with her, Jeonghan”_ and then _“I’m trying my best, Joshua”_ and they leave it at that.

But it weighs on Jeonghan’s mind the rest of the day, as he stays home from his classes to be with his baby.

They tell Seungcheol about it at their next session, their third. Well, Jeonghan does; Dasom just buries her warm, blushing face in his neck while they discuss it. And, as expected, Seungcheol is hardly disappointed.

“I wish people understood you better, Dasom,” he says quietly with big, sad eyes hidden behind those glasses. He looks so heartbreakingly _upset._ “And there will always be people who don’t get what you’re going through. But I do. Jeonghan does. We will always support you.”

She nods against Jeonghan’s throat.

“I am proud of you for going back to school,” Seungcheol continues, hands clasped on the desk. He hasn’t looked away from Dasom’s tiny form ever since Jeonghan brought this up. “Even if Jeonghan made you.”

Dasom nuzzles into his skin, and he pats her back. Gives Seungcheol a soft grin, which he returns. And it sets butterflies free in the pit of his stomach. As usual.

“Actually Dasom,” Seungcheol says as he stands up, “I want to try something if you’re willing.” He opens up one of his drawers and pulls out a composition notebook. And then he approaches them with soft, careful steps as Dasom sort of turns to face him.

Already they’ve come far, a lot farther than Jeonghan thought they’d be at three weeks in. Because Dasom actually, fully faces him, holding onto Jeonghan’s hands at her waist. She won’t make eye contact still but facing him is enough for now. More than enough. And it’s a testament to Seungcheol’s kind demeanor; to his efforts to make Dasom feel comfortable. Already it seems to be working the way he wants. Though there have been a couple other therapists they got to this point with. They just… messed it up somehow.

Jeonghan prays to whatever deities listening that Seungcheol doesn’t mess this up.

He kneels in front of them, like he always does, and smiles up at Dasom. “Here,” he says as he hands her the journal and she takes it with slightly tremulous hands. “I want you to use this. If you can - and you can use Jeonghan to help you if you want - I’d like you to keep a journal and write in it every day. About anything. You can write about bunnies, you can write about school, you can write about Jeonghan. Anything you want, Dasom.” His smile widens into the soft, serious one - the fact that Jeonghan can _recognize_ his damn smiles now… “And I know you can write in this because you’re so smart, aren’t you Dasom?”

She nods, squeezing Jeonghan’s hands.

“And next week, I’ll bring supplies so you can decorate it,” Seungcheol continues. “Any way you want it. I’ll even bring bunny stickers.”

Dasom squirms in Jeonghan’s lap, a contented hum escaping her lips.

Seungcheol grins at her, and then at Jeonghan.

He can’t help the way his heart flutters. But at Dasom’s happiness or Seungcheol’s handsome smile, he’s not sure.

Maybe both.


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see this is not a two-parter anymore! also this chapter is really rough i cried A Lot. so... i'm sorry in advance <3

**two.**

_"Jeonghan-ah."_

_He looks up from his laptop at the sound of his name and blinks the real world back into focus. It’s later than he thought it was, and the fact that he’s the only student in the common area cements this. With a sigh he meets his RA’s kind eyes and closes his laptop. “I know, I know, lights out - “_

_“No, that’s not what I’m - I mean, yes but…” He sighs too, a lot heavier, and steps to the side._

_Standing behind him is a familiar face partially covered by a sheet of thick, dark hair. Standing behind him is a familiar person wearing the old high school hoodie Jeonghan never thought he’d see again._

_“Sprout,” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue so easily even though Seoyeon is almost nineteen and just graduated high school a few weeks ago. But right now she doesn’t look like it. Not with the way she cowers behind her hair, a defense mechanism she’s had since the first time their father ever yelled in their presence. Not with the way she wraps one of the hoodie strings so tight around her finger._

_Not with the way she whispers, “Hannie,” so brokenly, like she’s on the verge of tears._

_The RA is gone, the door pulled shut behind him, before Jeonghan even makes his way over and pulls his sister into his arms. And the moment she burrows into him, the moment she wraps her arms around him - she breaks. Sobs so loud he’s worried they’d wake the other students on his floor if the door wasn’t closed. Her tears wet his shirt and no amount of comforting words or rubbing her back or kissing her head can calm her down._

_This, along with the late hour and the fact that she’s never been to his dorm on her own, breaks his heart in such a scary way._

_What could have happened?_

_His mind starts racing above her sobs but he tries his best to be present for Seoyeon. He tries his best to be her big brother._

_Eventually her tears let up and he’s able to get her to lift her head and look at him. Cooing gently, he wipes the tears from her face and she gives a watery, broken smile. He returns it after a forehead kiss, deciding he might try his hand at lightening the mood._

_“You haven’t cried that much since - well, last week. At that dog video you showed me during family dinner.”_

_She giggles softly but it catches in her throat and her face immediately crumbles. She looks so young like this and it hurts. “Hannie, I - I fucked up. I mean, I usually fuck up a lot but this… this was so bad. They’re so mad at me - I don’t know what to do - “_

_Before her tears can start again he shushes her with another forehead kiss. “Who’s ‘they’, sprout?”_

_“Eomma and appa,” she whispers and something in him breaks too because, while their entire family has the tendency to overreact, there’s not much that could get Seoyeon so worked up like this. “I… promise you won’t hate me?”_

_“I could never hate you, Seoyeon.”_

_She takes a deep breath and looks up at him with big brown eyes that are so familiar to him. “I’m pregnant.”_

Jeonghan tries his best not to think about his sister but sometimes she comes to him in moments when he least expects it. Driving to school and any Mamamoo song comes on his playlist (he’s been meaning to take them off but god they were her favorite band and… it feels cruel. Besides, it’s not their fault he sobs every time he hears “Wind Flower”, which was her favorite song too). Getting ready in the morning and he randomly remembers the way she would play with his bleached hair sometimes (“you would look so good in pink, Hannie!”). Grocery shopping and someone walks by smelling like her perfume and he has to pinch the skin between his pointer and middle finger dark purple to keep from breaking down. When Dasom lets loose that loud, carefree laugh of hers and she sounds so much like Seoyeon it _aches._

In those moments, he feels weak. Alone. For so long Seoyeon was his world and then…

And then.

Nine months on and he’s forgetting what she looked like; in his mind parts of her are replaced with black flecks, holes in his memory. Holes that make him ache with guilt because how could he forget her?

Nine months on and he can’t remember what her voice sounded like in the middle of the night, when her insomnia would keep her up and she’d sit on the couch next to him and they’d talk about everything and nothing until she fell asleep on his shoulder.

Nine months on and Dasom still doesn’t want to talk about her. Jeonghan starts off a story with an innocent “you know, your mom and I - “ and Dasom shuts down. Refuses to even look at him.

Nine months on and Jeonghan feels like he’s failing Seoyeon, he’s failing Dasom. Every damn day of his life. He keeps telling himself that he’s trying his best, that he’s done everything he can in his power as a fucking graduate student to get his baby help. But somedays it feels like he’s dragging. Somedays it feels like he’s barely hanging on.

Neither of them is processing the void in their lives.

He doesn’t know _how._

Doesn’t even really know where to begin, nine months on.

Apparently Seungcheol lives in their neighborhood, or so he says on his fifth late-night visit to Jeonghan’s convenience store. He’s got his usual packs of ramyeon - “No Red Bulls?” Jeonghan had asked when he approached the counter and he just shook his head with a smile - and he’s in that hoodie of his. Really, Jeonghan’s convinced he’d live in it if he could.

He’s also convinced it must smell so nice. Warm, the way Seungcheol just _is._

Or is that creepy?

“Did you just recently move here?” Jeonghan asks as he scans the few packs of noodles. They’ve known each other for almost a month now and there’s a part of Jeonghan that feels fundamentally bad about the lack of substantial things he knows about Seungcheol. But he knows _why;_ if he knew as much about his niece’s psychologist as Seungcheol knows about him… well that’d interfere with their professional relationship. To say the least.

But what’s a little small talk between sort of friends?

Jeonghan’s store has the same rules as Seungcheol’s office: what’s discussed here stays here. Something they both take advantage of.

Seungcheol nods. “After I graduated, yeah. My old place was too far from the clinic so I had to move.”

Jeonghan hums quietly and reads back his total.

Seungcheol puts his card in.

And then they just regard each other in an easy silence. It’s something they do a lot, Jeonghan’s noticed, but he’s not sure why. Is it Seungcheol trying to analyze him, read him? Is it Jeonghan watching him because there’s just something about his handsome features that catches his eye?

What is it about Seungcheol that makes him feel like this? Like… like there’s never been anyone in his life who’s properly cared about him. And why does he feel this way about his niece’s therapist?

The machine beeps and Seungcheol removes his card, breaking their eye contact to do so.

After that he’s gone far too quickly, leaving Jeonghan alone to study his notes. But he can’t get a certain pair of big brown eyes out of his head for the rest of the night. No matter how hard he tries.

The next few weeks come and go without much to report: they see Seungcheol every Saturday and, as usual, he and Jeonghan spend most of it talking. By their eighth visit, they’ve developed a rapport: Jeonghan fills him in on Dasom’s week (she only gets called to the office once more during this time, because she ran from the room after being asked to read aloud) and then they just… talk. And Dasom flits around the room. She draws, she tugs Seungcheol’s psychology books from their shelves and Jeonghan sees her mouthing the big words in them out of the corner of his eye. She examines the pictures - torn straight from coloring books or from his own drawing table - hanging on the walls, hopping on the soles of her feet when she sees one of hers.

(Two of the ones she gave him, of Bean and Boop, rest on the wall behind Jeonghan’s head. Where Seungcheol can just glance up whenever he wants and see them.)

And Seungcheol lets her. Whatever makes her feel comfortable around him, Seungcheol’s said before. Because this is her safe space and if she doesn’t _feel_ safe, how can she be expected to open up?

A novel concept, really.

(Sometimes when she’s curious enough she’ll lug over one of those big books shyly, set it in front of Seungcheol, and point to a word. Seungcheol will read it aloud, slowly. And Dasom mouths along with him, eyes strictly on the book.)

The conversation never strays too deep, though sometimes Seungcheol lightly probes at what happened with Seoyeon. And immediately after he’ll change the subject and they won’t bring it up again the rest of the hour. It must be some kind of tactic and Jeonghan has no doubt that Seungcheol’s a hell of a lot smarter than he lets on, probably cataloging everything they say and do for future reference. To build whatever theories he has. It’s his job, after all.

He never asks to see Dasom’s journal. “It’s yours,” he told her on their fourth visit, while she’d sat at the drawing table decorating it. “You can do whatever you want with it, you can let Jeonghan see it if you want. But it’s yours, Dasom, to write about anything.”

Jeonghan’s not sure of the merits of that - how can it do any good if she doesn’t share? That’s the whole issue in the first place, isn’t it? But he goes along with it, and every night, fifteen minutes before bed, they set apart journal time. And Dasom never, ever lets him look at what she’s writing. If he tries to peek she’ll wrap a protective arm around it and whine at him.

It’s endearing, in a way.

And every week, Seungcheol has new pictures of his rabbits, complete with stories. And Dasom listens from Jeonghan’s lap, playing with her fingers. She’s so excited, she practically thrums in his arms.

He wishes he could give her a rabbit of her own, but they just can’t afford it. And with how busy Jeonghan is, it’d probably end up dying early on. Though for now she seems content to just listen to Seungcheol gush over Boop and Bean.

Until after their eighth visit.

They’re in the car coming home and she whispers, “I wanna meet the bunnies.”

“You should ask Dr. Choi about them,” Jeonghan says quietly, heart soaring at the prospect of Dasom feeling comfortable enough to finally speak in his presence (Seungcheol would freak out. In the best way. God, the thought is enough to make Jeonghan blush.). “See if maybe he can bring them in one day.”

She meets his gaze in the rearview, for a moment. “I… have to ask?”

Jeonghan stops at a red light and turns back to look at her, meeting her wide eyed gaze with a smile. “You can do it, Sommie. I know you can. And we’ll practice, hmm? Until you’re ready.”

“No,” she breathes, beginning to shake her head. “Hannie, n-no, I can’t, I - “

 _Fuck._ As the light turns green he reaches back with one hand and finds her small knee. He squeezes it slowly, gently, until she calms down. Until she wraps her little fingers around his hand and grips.

The shoulder’s big enough and they’re only on a surface street; he pulls the car over. And within a few seconds, hazard lights blinking on both sides of the car, he’s reaching as best as he can towards the backseat and Dasom’s crawling over the console.

Then she’s in his arms.

Small and tense and trembling and breathing heavily, she burrows against him.

Tired and blinking back tears and swallowing against the lump in his throat, he holds her so tight.

“I know you’re scared, baby,” he murmurs, “but I would never put you in a situation where you could be hurt or embarrassed. I promise.” He runs his fingers through her hair as she settles against him. “And Dr. Choi’s nice. You like him, right?”

She nods.

“And I know he likes you too, baby. He wouldn’t be mean to you.”

She nods again and then shifts so she can sit back on his lap. Her big brown eyes are watery though she won’t cry, hardly ever cries in front of him, even if her lower lip still wavers. And with small, trembling hands she reaches out and touches his face. “Hannie’s sad.”

Her fingers come back wet with tears he wasn’t aware he’d shed.

“I’m not sad, Sommie,” he whispers, and he hates that he has to lie to her. “I promise.”

She sighs softly and looks up at him, like she knows it’s not the truth. Just like her mother. “Can we go home now?”

He’s studying for a test the next time Seungcheol visits the store. And within five minutes they’re breaking into the Red Bulls Seungcheol bought with the intent of studying all night. Really, the caffeine mixed with a lack of sleep leaves them sitting on the floor against the counter, giggling over nothing, and Jeonghan can’t believe he’s known this man for about six weeks.

Because it feels like he’s known Choi Seungcheol forever.

“Do you think you’re ready for your test?” Seungcheol asks, tapping the page they’re on, the textbook open on Jeonghan’s lap. “When is it?”

“Thursday,” he murmurs as he leans his head against Seungcheol’s shoulder.

And Seungcheol lets him. “And today is… Tuesday, right?” He sighs softly and reaches out to close the textbook.

Jeonghan pretends not to feel it when Cheol’s fingers brush his thigh as he sets the notebook on the floor in front of them. “Yeah. But tomorrow I have to focus on another class.”

“Oh.” He leans his head against Jeonghan’s and sighs heavier this time. “You’re - you’re in graduate school, right?”

“Yeah, getting my master’s in Korean history. I’m almost done actually.” He smiles to himself at the thought. _Almost done._

“And what are you gonna do with it?”

“Originally I was going to be a historian, but then I got Dasom and I… I decided that I could teach with it. Work my schedule around hers so that way I can raise her. Be the parent she needs.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… where’s her father?”

Maybe it’s the caffeine buzzing in his brain, maybe it’s the late hour. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s all but snuggling with Seungcheol and it’s been far too long since he’s felt this close to another human being. Truthfully he’s not sure what prompts him to talk about it. But he does. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “My sister never told me. She got pregnant right after high school and decided that she was raising Dasom on her own.”

“Oh.” One of Seungcheol’s hands comes up to play with the small holes in the thighs of Jeonghan’s jeans and he shivers at the contact. “And your parents…?”

“Disowned her when she told them.” The memories come back like bile up his throat. “And when - when Seoyeon died, they didn’t want anything to do with Dasom. So the responsibility fell to me.”

Seungcheol squeezes his thigh a bit. “You’re selfless, Jeonghan. To be doing what you’re doing? Not a lot of people would do it.”

He shrugs, though Seungcheol’s words do fill him with pride. Pride in himself. “I did what I had to do, for my family.”

Jeonghan looks up, then, and so does Seungcheol and they’re so close Jeonghan can feel his warm breath on his face - they’re so close he could kiss him if he wanted to and God, it makes him ache. Everything about Seungcheol makes him ache. So deep in his soul, he simply, thoroughly aches.

The door jingles as it opens and they jump apart.

And then, taking half of Jeonghan’s heart with him, Seungcheol leaves a few minutes later.

When Seoyeon was a baby she had just enough hair that their mother would style it up into a small ponytail atop her head. She looked like a bean sprout and so Jeonghan, ever the loving big brother, teasingly called her “sprout”. When she was old enough to comprehend that the nickname was partially an insult she’d smack him and say she’d grow her hair out so long one day that eomma couldn’t do that hairstyle on her and then Jeonghan couldn’t call her sprout anymore.

When Dasom was a baby she had a tuft of fine hair too and Jeonghan teased his sister that he’d bestow the same fate to her; tie it up in a ponytail just like a sprout.

Always Seoyeon had stuck her tongue out at him, eyes fond as she looked from him to her daughter. Saying that she wanted Dasom to be like her, with long, beautiful hair.

It’s why Jeonghan never cuts it.

Seungcheol comes into the store almost every single time Jeonghan’s working. It takes him maybe two or three weeks to memorize his set schedule and then he’s a regular. Sometimes he comes closer to nine-thirty, when Jeonghan’s shift starts, but usually it’s after midnight when it’s just the two of them. When everyone else in their neighborhood is fast asleep and Jeonghan would suffocate beneath his thoughts if it weren’t for a certain gummy smile.

And he stays longer than he should, longer than it usually takes to buy a few packs of ramyeon. At first it was just to check on Dasom but soon he’d engage Jeonghan in conversations they can’t have around her. Their high school days and the shit they’d get into (Seungcheol’s always been as straight-edged as he seems, if you’re curious), college woes, politics. Sometimes they’d get deep, brought about by pangs of loneliness in the middle of the night, and Seungcheol would try and make sense about Jeonghan’s less than informed ramblings about higher powers and existence. And other times they’d gush over dramas and movies, giggling about this handsome actor or some idol they both love.

(Seungcheol really likes Mamamoo, too.

Seoyeon would've liked him a lot.)

Either way, between these midnight meetings where they feel like the only people in the world and the Saturday morning ones when they smile at each other above Dasom’s head like kids sharing a secret, Jeonghan tells him so much.

He knows that Jeonghan hasn’t really spoken to his parents since they kicked Seoyeon out.

He knows that Jeonghan keeps his friends as close as he can, that without them he’d be a walking husk of a man.

He knows that Jeonghan can’t look at a bean sprout without crying.

He knows that Jeonghan’s sense of humor is as immature as anyone else his age.

He knows _everything,_ and Jeonghan wants to know everything about him too. Well truth be told, every few days he adds to his “things I know about Seungcheol” list. Even small things. But after time, they begin to pile up.

By the fifth week of having Seungcheol in his life, Jeonghan starts tacking on a “hyung” to his name, when it’s just the two of them (because somehow Seungcheol is thirty-two years old, a full six years older than Jeonghan, even though that makes no sense).

By the seventh week, he calls him “hyungie” when he wants something or gets the urge to act cute. (And in front of Dasom, he starts calling him “hyung” too. Mostly at Seungcheol’s red-cheeked request because maybe it’d be good for Dasom to hear it, to know that Jeonghan’s so comfortable with him. Or so he said.)

By the tenth week, it’s “Cheol-hyung”. “Cheollie” if it’s late enough and they’ve been working too long and hard on reviewing Jeonghan’s lecture notes and he feels like being a brat.

By the twelfth week, three months after they first met, summer warmth beginning to set in, Jeonghan’s pretty certain he’s in love with Seungcheol.

It’s the way he looks at Dasom, with so much love and kindness that she’s only ever gotten from a small handful of people. It’s the way he supports her without pushing, the way he’s such an invaluable strength in her life. It’s the way he’s so gentle and kind, so utterly selfless to the point where Jeonghan wonders sometimes if he’s real. If he exists outside of Jeonghan’s lonely, touch- and love-starved imagination.

It’s the way he’s exactly what both he and Dasom need. What they’ve ached for but didn’t know they were missing.

It’s the way his soft touches - shy and sweet against Jeonghan’s hands as they lean on the counter and talk, absentminded on his thighs as they sit on the dirty floor next to the counter, pouring over Jeonghan’s lecture notes, firm and comforting on his shoulders when sometimes it gets too hard to breathe late at night - make Jeonghan want. But want what, he’s not sure. He just _wants._

The last visit before summer break, Jeonghan’s thrumming with excitement as Seungcheol leads them to the back. He and Dasom have spent the past countless weeks rehearsing what she wants to say to Seungcheol. They did it in front of a mirror, roleplaying, with Joshua and Seokmin when they would come over for dinner sometimes, every morning, every night.

_“Dr. Choi, can I meet your bunnies, please?”_

Jeonghan’s ready for this step.

He just hopes Dasom is too.

And the session goes as usual - Dasom spends most of it attempting to read Seungcheol’s big psychology books and Jeonghan can’t help but wonder how much of them she comprehends. Hopefully a decent amount, since they’re on the third Harry Potter book right now.

Every so often, usually during a lull in the conversation, Jeonghan and Seungcheol share _looks._ Looks that seem to pierce Jeonghan’s heart and soul, that leave him flustered and blushing. Looks that force a breathless laugh from Seungcheol’s lips.

Looks he treasures almost as much as the eternal kindness in Seungcheol’s voice.

Near the end of the session, Dasom comes back to Jeonghan’s lap and he reassures her with silent hand squeezes. Until she turns and faces Seungcheol, breathing slow and deep, the way he’s taught her.

“Dr. Choi, can I meet your bunnies please?”

Her voice is small and meek but it carries through the room.

Her voice is weak and scared but Jeonghan’s never been prouder of her.

Her voice is sweet and musical. Just like her mother.

Shock widens Seungcheol’s eyes and drops his jaw and for a moment, he says nothing. Just looks between the two of them with his emotions clear in his gaze. Warmth, adoration, pride, awe.

Love.

It’s the brightest of them all, shining and all-consuming. And it makes Jeonghan ache in that way he still can’t describe, still can’t put words to. But maybe he doesn’t need words. Maybe the feeling itself is enough.

And then Seungcheol breaks into the biggest smile Jeonghan’s ever seen on his handsome face. 

“I thought you’d never ask, Dasommie.”

Sometimes Jeonghan gets a call from an unsaved number he thinks is his father's (he can't remember - it's been so long since they talked). But every time he picks up, the caller hangs up.

Eventually he just stops accepting the calls.

And the caller never leaves a voicemail.

It's comforting in a strange, almost unwelcome way.

Dasom and Jeonghan get through the rest of their semesters without too much hassle (which, of course, is relative. Jeonghan’s a graduate student caring for a six year old with selective mutism - hassle is a given) and summer break can’t come fast enough. God, that first Saturday after school lets out Dasom is bouncing around the house and the clinic with so much energy Jeonghan’s not even sure if she’s the same girl he’s raised.

Because of the _bunnies._

The moment they enter the clinic Seungkwan grins at them so widely from his spot at the receptionist’s desk. “I hear Dr. Choi has a surprise for you, Dasommie! I peeked - you’re gonna love it.”

She squeaks and jumps around, flowery sundress flouncing up with every bounce.

Jeonghan can’t help it; he laughs. He feels bright, significantly less stressed.

And his soul only soars more when he hears Seungcheol’s voice.

“Dasommie,” he says, trying and failing to sound firm as he’s faced with her sudden, boundless energy.

But in his presence she reaches for Jeonghan and thrums in his arms.

“You know you’ll scare the bunnies if you’re running around this much,” Cheol continues with a funny, faltering stern look. It’s as endearing as literally everything else about him and Jeonghan wants to kiss him.

Dasom immediately calms down in his arms, suddenly the perfect, most well-behaved kid there ever was.

Jeonghan’s heart melts at the smile he and Seungcheol share.

And so he takes them back, gently reminding Dasom that Bean is basically a cat and loves being picked up and held while Boop much prefers simple head scratches.

Truth be told, Jeonghan’s rather excited to meet these infamous rabbits. They’re all Dasom has been able to talk about for weeks and he’s so thrilled that she finally gets to see them. That she finally gets to hold and pet and love a real rabbit and not just some plushie.

Jeonghan puts her down when they enter the room and she gasps quietly.

In the center Seungcheol’s set up a playpen of sorts for the bunnies, complete with toys, food, and a litter box. Slowly, as if awestruck, Dasom sits next to the pen and just watches Bean and Boop for a few silent moments. And then there’s a gentle sensation against Jeonghan’s hand that distracts him. He looks down and finds Seungcheol’s fingertips grazing the side of his hand. It sends tingles up Jeonghan’s arm and in between heartbeats he slides his palm against Seungcheol’s. In between their next breaths, he intwines their fingers.

And they watch Dasom as she lives the best day she’s had in months.

After a minute or so - a minute Jeonghan spends committing every single thing about this moment to memory - Seungcheol pulls away and joins Dasom on the floor, cross-legged like a kindergartener.

They spend the entire hour with the bunnies.

Bean takes quite a liking to Dasom - according to Seungcheol he’s incredibly cuddly and friendly for a rabbit - and Jeonghan has never seen her so happy as she strokes his soft fur, as she lays on the floor and nuzzles into him.

It makes him cry when he’s alone for the first time later that day, in his car on the way to work.

He doesn’t know what they would do without Choi Seungcheol and he’s already so indebted to him.

Already so in love with him.

As the summer heats up, things go well. Dasom talks to Seungcheol. Soft whispers hidden behind thick hair that could just be meant for the open air or murmurs made to the bunnies, but they all know the truth. She’ll talk about her day, things she drew, plot points in the Harry Potter books. Things that Jeonghan already knows. Things that rabbits don’t care about.

And Seungcheol hangs onto her every word. He praises her every time she opens her mouth, every time she shares with him.

Jeonghan’s so much less stressed than he used to be.

Dasom’s less tense than she usually is.

And then June twenty-fourth comes around.

It’s a Wednesday, and those are such odd days for them both to begin with; on Wednesdays it feels like it’s been weeks since they’ve seen Seungcheol and they’ve still got a few days to go.

But this particular Wednesday Jeonghan wakes up with a lump in his throat that he can’t explain until he checks his phone.

 _Let me know if you need me today,_ Joshua texted half an hour ago. _I’m so sorry, Han._

A year.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

Seoyeon’s been gone for… for…

God. He hadn’t even noticed. With finishing up his second to last semester, with making sure Dasom ended the school year right, with keeping up on bills and his work schedule and appointments with Seungcheol…

He’d forgotten.

The tears come before he can stop them, tears he hasn’t shed in so long because somewhere along the way the pain of losing Seoyeon got better; tears that leave his body, his heart, his _soul_ aching in a way he hasn’t felt since he took the Christmas lights down, something Seoyeon always made him do mid-January because Christmas is - was - her favorite holiday.

He cries until he can’t anymore, until his eyes are swollen and painfully dry. Until his upper lip burns and he stops shaking.

And then he gets up. Dresses and washes his aching face and brushes his teeth on autopilot. Starts breakfast and tries not to think about Seoyeon because Dasom is going to need him strong and alert today.

She’s been without her mother for a year.

She needs him.

He could call Seungcheol, his brain suggests. But then he decides against that: even though it’s a Wednesday and he always has those off… Jeonghan can do this. He’s capable.

He surprises Dasom with breakfast in bed and they sit in silence as they eat. Which isn’t necessarily out of the ordinary but… but she’s holding her rabbit plushie closer than usual.

“Baby,” he says quietly around a full stomach even though he’s had a few bites, “you know what today is, don’t you?”

She has to know. She’s too smart, too observant not to.

“Wednesday,” she responds in a distant whisper.

She’s barely touched the food too.

So Jeonghan reaches for their plates and sets them on the floor next to the bed. And then he’s gathering Dasom in his arms, bunny stuffie in between them. She snuggles close, resting her head on his shoulder and for a time they don’t speak.

And then Dasom whispers, “I heard you crying.”

He swallows against the newly-forming lump in his throat and holds her tighter. “Do you know why, baby?”

She breathes in and when she exhales it tickles his neck. “You miss eomma.”

It was around this time he got the call, too. He can still remember how robotic the officer had sounded. She’d just been doing her job but Jeonghan had been broken beyond repair and he couldn’t believe how apathetic she’d been.

“I miss her so much, baby,” he whispers, turning his head to nuzzle into Dasom’s thick hair. “Do you miss her too?”

She nods as her fingers curl into his shirt. And he doesn’t expect her to say any more, she never talks about Seoyeon, why would she now - but then suddenly her grip on him tightens. Suddenly she starts to tremble and her breath comes in quickened bursts she can’t catch - suddenly she’s whining and shaking her head and he can’t get through to her. He can’t get her attention, can’t get her to look at him or calm down - fuck he doesn’t know what to do, what she needs -

So just after nine a.m. on a Wednesday he reaches for his phone with shivering hands and calls Seungcheol with tears in his throat.

And just after nine-fifteen, he clings to Dasom as tightly as she clings to him and they open the door.

She’s stopped shaking now but she’s still not breathing right and if it weren’t for the panic rising in his chest maybe he could get her to relax -

“Dasommie,” Seungcheol says, and the relief that shudders through Jeonghan’s body brings fresh tears to his eyes. “Dasommie, can you look at me?”

Breathing heavily, she peeks through a curtain of thick dark hair and Seungcheol gives her the warmest smile.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he murmurs. “I know you’re scared and you don’t know what’s wrong. but I’m here to make you feel better, okay? Hannie, too. We’re both here for you. We just need you to breathe. Can you do that for us, Dasommie? Do you trust me to help you?”

Jeonghan’s not sure what makes her do it - if it’s the panic attack, if it’s missing her mother and she doesn’t know what to do with that, if it’s the fact that Seungcheol is like the best kind of comfort food, like coming home to your bed and a nice pair of pajamas after a hard day - but in her desperation Dasom reaches for Seungcheol.

And he takes her in his arms.

He holds her so tightly, just stroking fingers down her back and they tangle so easily in her hair but he doesn’t care. No, he just tells her to breathe the way he does; he holds her against his chest and Jeonghan watches through teary eyes as he breathes in slow and deep. As Dasom copies him until she starts breathing normally.

The words come tumbling out of Jeonghan’s mouth, then; words he doesn’t really hear but he says them anyway because Seungcheol needs to hear them.

“Th-thank you - you really didn’t have to come out here on your day off… thank you, hyung - I don’t - I - “

And then he feels warm fingers on his chin, warm fingers that tilt his head up and pull him in before he can even begin to think. Warm fingers that lead him to warm eyes and he wants to melt in everything that Seungcheol is.

“Don’t, Jeonghan-ah,” he whispers. “I’d do anything for you two.”

Such emphatic words but they feel right in a moment like this, on a day like this, and Jeonghan allows himself to be pulled into a hug as well. He wraps one arm around Seungcheol and reaches out to play with Dasom’s hair with the other.

A few minutes later and Seungcheol has effectively stepped over his professional boundaries as he slips beneath Jeonghan’s covers, Dasom between them. It was where she led them both, gripping their hands tightly, and Jeonghan knows it’s one of her comfort spots. And Seungcheol knows it too; he knows she spent the first four months after her mother passed curled along Jeonghan’s side like a cat, sleeping fitfully every night while Jeonghan just lay awake.

It was something they touched on before Dasom had tensed in his lap, in warning, one Saturday.

“You don’t need to talk,” Seungcheol tells them both now, voice barely more than a whisper, and Jeonghan likes the way he looks like this. Laying in his bed, letting Dasom play with the strings on his hoodie, nothing but fondness and worry in his eyes. “But I’d like it if you did.”

So Jeonghan wraps an arm around Dasom’s tiny frame and nuzzles into her hair. “Seoyeon passed a year ago today,” he whispers, “and I think this is the first time we’ve really acknowledged it. So I think Sommie freaked out a bit. Huh, baby?”

She just tugs on Seungcheol’s hoodie strings, tensing once again.

But they need to talk.

Seungcheol gives a sad sigh. “I’m sorry. I wish you would’ve said something on Saturday, I could’ve given you tips or - “

“I didn’t know we needed them,” and it sounds too stupid to admit; of course they would need help on the first anniversary of Seoyeon’s death. But his pride, his denial had gotten in the way and now…

“I’m here now,” Seungcheol whispers.

A part of Jeonghan doesn’t want to believe him; not only is it too good to be true but this is wrong, isn’t it? He’s Dasom’s psychologist, this is obviously well beyond the bounds of professionalism -

But Jeonghan doesn’t really care. Not when they need Seungcheol so badly right now.

He looks up and meets his eyes when he feels Seungcheol’s fingers brush the back of his hand, the one that rests on Dasom’s side. Again, he intwines their fingers, and they hold Dasom together.

Seungcheol ends up spending the entire day with them. Treats them to takeout for lunch and, at Dasom’s request, they watch The Bunnies while they eat. And surprising English speaker Seungcheol translates as best as he can (“What?” he says around a blush, when Jeonghan asks. “I’ve got a few American friends and a lot of time on my hands”). Dasom listens as intently as she always does, from Jeonghan’s lap, and it feels like they’re back in his office. Until Seungcheol looks at him and Jeonghan forgets how to breathe.

Really, Seoyeon would be proud of him.

After lunch Jeonghan puts Dasom down for a nap but she refuses to sleep alone. Jeonghan can’t blame her today (like he ever really judges her; he’s a sucker for snuggly, nappy Dasom) and, once making sure it’s okay with her, Seungcheol joins them. They find themselves in a similar position from earlier and facing Seungcheol like this, something in Jeonghan aches to talk. To finally, finally open up about Seoyeon once and for all.

So he does. While Dasom sleeps, Jeonghan just rambles. None of it is linear – he goes from talking about his and Seoyeon’s childhood to her getting her first tattoo, a few months after Dasom was born, and then stories from high school. And Seungcheol listens. Head propped up on his hand, eyes so deep and warm, he listens. Jeonghan talks till his throat aches, till his voice is gravelly, till it’s all he can do to not cry because Seoyeon left such a big goddamn hole in his life and he’s never known how to fill it.

Until Seungcheol reaches out, Dasom’s face buried in his chest, and wipes a stray tear from his cheek. Until Jeonghan leans in, inexplicably drawn to the comfort that is Seungcheol, tethered to him in a way he knows he shouldn’t be – this is his niece’s psychologist, why is he here with them like this –

“I really care about you, Jeonghan,” he whispers, as if reading his mind, eyes searching his face. “Both of you. More than I should. But I… I can’t help it.”

“I know, hyung,” Jeonghan murmurs and he closes his eyes as Seungcheol’s touch becomes more insistent; his thumb presses against his cheekbone and strokes along his skin. It’s electric, forbidden, and everything Jeonghan has been missing.

Somehow it feels like time has stopped.

Somehow it feels like he can start to heal, Dasom can start to heal. If they have Seungcheol at their side.

He’s not certain who makes the first move, but what he does know is that a few moments later he and Seungcheol are sharing the same pillow; and then Seungcheol’s lips are on his. Plush, soft, slightly chapped. They share a breath, slow and deep, and it’s over as soon as it began.

The shy, blushy smile Seungcheol flashes him when they part is his most beautiful one, Jeonghan decides.

Night comes far too quickly and a sleepy, full-bellied Dasom bids Seungcheol a gentle goodbye from under her blankets; a quick murmur past her lips but it’s enough to draw grins from both Jeonghan and Seungcheol. And then they’re walking to the front door in silence. The moonlight spilling into the apartment from an open window catches Seungcheol’s face in the most beautiful way and Jeonghan loses himself for a moment. Undone, he brings Seungcheol in for another kiss. This one is firmer and the way Seungcheol breathes with him, the way their mouths slot together, the slow touch of his tongue… Right now they exist in a strange limbo, a world between worlds, where rules don’t matter and Jeonghan doesn’t have to be scared.

This day, like it did last year, seems like a dream – but this time he doesn’t want to wake up.

Tomorrow, or sometime soon, they’ll figure out what this all means. But right now Jeonghan watches Seungcheol walk down the building hall giggling like a boy with a crush. It’s a moment of pure happiness, a feeling he doesn’t let himself have often because he isn’t sure he deserves it. But he wants _more_ of it.

He closes the door and leans against it for a moment, breathlessness fluttering through him. And he thinks about Seoyeon and the knowing smile she must be giving him, wherever it is she is.

“I miss you,” he whispers to the empty living room.

But he doesn’t hurt like he did this morning. It’s still there, just… lessened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought! <3


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit shorter than usual but i didn't make myself cry so that's good lmao.
> 
> enjoy!

**three.**

That Saturday, they miss an appointment for the first time.

Seungkwan calls at around seven, just as Dasom’s finishing brushing her teeth (and Jeonghan’s trying to push a comb through her unruly hair), and says that Seungcheol has a family emergency and won’t be able to make their appointment. He doesn’t elaborate, and when he hangs up Jeonghan’s left trying not to worry. He itches to send Seungcheol a quick text, and he would but… but they haven’t communicated since Wednesday night. Not a call, not a message, nothing. So it’d be weird now, right, if Jeonghan asked him what was wrong? Seungcheol’s his niece’s psychologist, anyway. Jeonghan doesn’t need to know his personal business.

Except that they’ve kissed. Twice now.

Part of Jeonghan is convinced that those kisses were nothing but a fever dream brought on by grief. Especially since he hasn’t heard word one from Seungcheol since. And then he’ll find himself reliving them in the moments when he’s alone. Driving to school. Getting ready in the morning. Grocery shopping. He feels Seungcheol’s lips on his so vividly, can recall the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he felt in Jeonghan’s arms. Like he’s everything Jeonghan’s been missing, wanting, needing. And in those moments, he knows the kisses happened. That he had Seungcheol in his apartment, that he’d been held by him.

In those moments, his heart aches and he misses him.

However Seungcheol hasn’t reached out at all, and Jeonghan’s anxiety spikes after Seungkwan’s call. He tries to play it off, tries to find logic to defeat the uncertainty that _he doesn’t want to see you, he hates you, you fucked it all up_ but it’s difficult. He tries convincing himself that he can’t reconcile the Seungcheol he knows - sweet, warm, understanding, supportive - with the Seungcheol his mind is trying to create, a man who would just abandon him and Dasom after a couple unprofessional kisses.

So he takes a few breaths and, after tucking Dasom back into bed (he’s a sucker for her droopy, blinky, sleepy eyes), tries to distract himself. Since summer means no schoolwork he throws himself into chores, deep cleaning everything while he attempts to assure himself that Seungcheol’s family emergency is none of his business and they’ll hear from him when - _if_ \- it’s appropriate.

That those kisses, as pure and right as they felt, shouldn’t have happened.

Joshua and Seokmin come over for dinner that night. They bring stuff for burgers - “American style,” Joshua says with a grin - and Dasom spends the entire time they’re cooking in Seokmin’s arms. They’re curled up on the couch, going through the artwork she’s made since the last time she saw him, and Seokmin is as enamored with her as anyone else. Stroking her hair and making the appropriate, awed noises. Cooing and praising her and every time Jeonghan catches sight of her satisfied smile he grins to himself.

“She’s got him wrapped around her little finger,” he murmurs to Joshua over the sizzling of the meat on the stovetop.

He chuckles softly and it sounds so fond, so loving. “He adores her. This is all he’s been able to talk about all week.”

Jeonghan believes it, knowing Seokmin the way he does, and the thought warms his heart. “He’d make a really good father, you know,” he says quietly as he busies himself slicing cheese. “So would you, hyung.”

Joshua is silent for a beat too long and Jeonghan turns around to accuse him of keeping secrets from him when he notices the sweet smile on his friend’s face. It’s a smile that says so much, a smile that Jeonghan wants to treasure because it’s not often that there’s pure joy or good news in this house. So he crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around Joshua, both of them laughing softly, holding each other tight. And for a moment, he can’t find the words to express his happiness, to tell Joshua - his closest friend, his biggest support - that he deserves this. So he just presses a kiss to his cheek and hopes that that conveys what he can’t say.

Joshua pulls back and when their eyes meet again, they both let out a soft chuckle. Joshua’s is thick with emotion, tears shining in his eyes, and for the amount of times he’s seen Jeonghan cry, Jeonghan has never seen _him_ cry.

He nudges him teasingly, feeling like he can’t stop smiling. “Are you guys adopting or is Minji-noona - ?”

Joshua lifts a finger to his eye and swipes at the few tears that fall. “She’s agreed to carry the baby. Seok and I kept telling her that she didn’t have to but she insisted, saying stuff about Seok being her favorite dongsaeng - that I’m like a brother to her too, and I just… I don’t know, she seemed really happy to do it. And Seok… God, he’s over the moon. We’ve got an appointment with the doctor next week, which is why I wasn’t going to say anything, but…”

“That’s amazing, hyung,” Jeonghan says softly. “You’re both gonna be incredible fathers, I know it.”

The beef sizzling in the pan brings their attention back to the present and then they finish up making dinner in an easy, comfortable silence. Jeonghan knows that Dasom is going to be _so_ excited. Any children Joshua and Seokmin have are no doubt gonna be like little siblings to her - God, Jeonghan can’t wait. Can’t wait for the delight, the laughter a baby will add to their lives. He can’t wait to help his friends raise their child the way they’ve helped Jeonghan.

Conversation flows easily at dinner, straying to all kinds of topics. Dasom even chimes in from time to time, when the topics turn to things she’s interested in, and Jeonghan’s heart is so full as he sits here. Eating good food in good company, listening to his baby’s sweet giggles, basking in his friends’ palpable happiness… This is as close to blissful as things can get, he decides, because it’s all he wants in life.

Well, maybe with a significant other at his side too.

A _certain_ significant other.

Sighing, he pushes Seungcheol from his mind, deciding instead to refocus on Seokmin’s story and the way Dasom’s wide eyes follow his big, grand hand gestures. They’re quite the pair, these two. Happy and excitable and so in love with the people around them, close to them.

Jeonghan and Joshua sure are lucky.

After dinner, Jeonghan and Dasom have the house to themselves again. Dasom takes some time alone and writes in her journal while Jeonghan tends to the dishes. And his mind wanders in the white noise of the faucet, the only sound in the kitchen, distracting him as he goes through the familiar motions of filling the dishwasher. Truly, he hopes Seungcheol is okay. That whatever happened isn’t anything too bad or scary. Fuck, maybe he _should_ send a text. After dishes. Just a quick check-in because they’re friends, if nothing else. Right?

A knock on the front door redirects his attention and he frowns, turning off the faucet. It could be Joshua, maybe they forgot something. But the knocking is too insistent, too desperate, so Jeonghan dries his hands and heads for the door -

A familiar figure stands in the hallway, tense and pacing, hair disheveled like he’s run his hand through it one too many times. His handsome face is drawn taut with worry, plush bottom lip bitten red and almost raw - but the moment he looks up and meets Jeonghan’s gaze the stress seems to melt off him and he takes a few steps close, like he wants to gather Jeonghan into his arms.

And Jeonghan wants that too.

“Hyung?” he asks softly.

Seungcheol gives him a smile that seems forced, a ghost of his usual brilliance, and then it falls as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry, I-I’m… I…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jeonghan says. And then: “Do you want to come in?”

Seungcheol nods and steps inside, shoulders squared and tense, and Jeonghan closes the door behind him.

Their eyes meet again in the low light of the living room and Jeonghan closes the space between them, wrapping his arms around Seungcheol without even thinking. Because it feels right. Because he’s hurting or upset or - or Jeonghan doesn’t know what. But he needs him, that much is certain. He clings to Jeonghan, burying his face in his neck, breathing heavily, muscles tight and tensed under his shirt, under Jeonghan’s hands. Whatever happened this morning, it must’ve been bad, and Jeonghan’s anxiety spikes, fearing the worst.

“What happened?” he whispers, slowly rubbing his hands up and down Seungcheol’s back, trying to smooth out the knots under his skin as best as he can. Trying to give him even an ounce of comfort.

Seungcheol squeezes him gently and then loosens his grip. Just a bit. “I… my eomma had a heart attack early this morning,” he whispers, and Jeonghan’s heart drops. “She’s okay but I just… and I’ve been dealing with my abeoji all day and I-I just… I needed to see you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, hyung.” He pulls back just enough to meet Seungcheol’s gaze - just the thought of being away from him, from being anywhere but here in his arms, makes him ache, and he’d be lying if he said that Seungcheol needing him didn’t also make him ache. But in a different way. “I’m happy you’re here and that you’re okay and that your eomma is okay too.” Sighing softly, he runs his hands down Seungcheol’s strong arms, wrapping his fingers around his forearms, and Seungcheol closes his eyes, exhales slowly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Nothing all day,” he murmurs. “I haven’t felt like it.”

Jeonghan makes a noise in the back of his throat and it must sound as nagging to Seungcheol as it does to his own ears because Seungcheol laughs softly. “You need to take care of yourself, hyung. But since you won’t, we have leftovers you’re welcome to.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to impose - “

“You don’t, hyung,” Jeonghan says softly, and he realizes that he’s stroking his thumbs along Seungcheol’s bare forearms. He doesn’t stop. “I promise. Now just sit, I’ll warm up the food and bring it to you, the remote’s on the coffee table, you can put on whatever you want as long as it’s appropriate; Dasom’s in her room - “ He sighs a bit, too busy running through everything in his head to notice the way Seungcheol perks up. “I should tell her you’re here so you don’t scare her…”

“Jeonghan-ah.”

He looks up, losing his train of thought the moment he meets Seungcheol’s gaze, and he wants to kiss him. It’s a desire that feels improper, standing in his living room, Dasom wide awake, the events of Seungcheol’s day weighing on them both. But it’s still there, singing through his body, igniting something inside him that he hasn’t felt in so long - no, never. Because he’s never wanted someone near him, around him the way he wants Seungcheol right now. He’s never felt the need to touch someone, to know that they’re there the way he wants to touch Seungcheol right now.

It’s not right but God does it feel like it is.

Their mouths meet before Jeonghan can really think and then he’s curling his fingers in Seungcheol’s shirt, holding tight to him as his lips part. They breathe together, slowly, deeply, Seungcheol cupping his face in his warm hands, and Jeonghan wants time to stop. He wants to be selfish for once in his life, wants to enjoy this moment without guilt, without overthinking every movement, every thought, every breath. He wants the love he gives so freely, wants to cling to it like a lifeline when everything feels like so much and he’s drowning. He wants Seungcheol to stay the night, the week, the rest of his life.

He wants so much and he can’t have any of it.

Seungcheol pulls away with a soft smile, giving his nose a little nuzzle. “Go tell Dasommie I’m here. I’ll wait.”

So with butterflies in his stomach, on weak knees, he makes his way down the hall to Dasom’s room. She whines at him through the door, something about not being done writing, and he’s so close to calling out a teasing “see what you’ve done to my baby?” towards the living room, where Seungcheol’s waiting for him, but he doesn’t. Instead he tells Dasom that he has a surprise for her. When she opens the door he picks her up and gives her a big, wet kiss on the cheek.

Which she promptly wipes off.

“Hannie, what? I’m doing journal time.”

She looks so indignant, so precious, that he can’t help himself: he kisses her forehead. “Baby, someone’s here to see you.”

“Is uncle Minnie back?”

“Should I go then?” Seungcheol asks, stepping into the hallway, and Dasom immediately perks up, the same way Seungcheol did a few minutes ago, at her mention. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that Jeonghan has the life experience and social cues to catch; Dasom starts whining for him to stay like there was any danger of him actually leaving. She reaches for him and Jeonghan has no choice but to give up his baby, loving the way Seungcheol’s smile makes his eyes crinkle shut, long lashes so close to brushing his cheeks.

“Did you miss me today, Dasommie?” he asks against her temple, and apparently Jeonghan isn’t the only one he’ll break his professional code of conduct for; he kisses Dasom’s face until she’s giggling and pushing at him.

“No! I missed the bunnies.”

It comes out clear and obviously addressed to Seungcheol, the first time she’s ever really directly spoken to him, outside of asking to see the rabbits. But if Seungcheol is surprised he doesn’t show it. He just feigns hurt and nuzzles her nose the way he did Jeonghan’s. “I can’t believe it; I am _heartbroken,_ Dasommie.”

So is Jeonghan. But for different reasons. In a different way.

She just giggles some more as she rests her head against his and Jeonghan never, ever wants Seungcheol to leave. In any way, shape, or form. But warning bells go off in his head, telling him that they need to talk; that they need to figure out what they’re doing before it goes somewhere they can’t come back from and Dasom loses another constant in her life. Before Jeonghan loses him too.

They won’t be able to survive that, he knows it.

And that’s what’s so scary.

Seungcheol eats the leftover burgers with Dasom half in his lap, some random cartoon playing in the background, and Jeonghan aches to curl up against him. To feel Seungcheol’s fingers in his hair. To feel his slow, steady breaths, to hear the sound of his heart. But he won’t dare in front of Dasom. No, it would only confuse her. So he behaves, keeping to his recliner as he watches the two of them interact. Seungcheol is so good with her, better than Seokmin even (though he’d never admit that with Seokmin in the room), and it’s obvious in the way she’s opened up to him after four months or so.

Seokmin’s presence has been steady, since she was born; he was Jeonghan’s only friend that stuck around when he decided to forgo a social life to help Seoyeon raise her baby, and he’s been there ever since. So she knows him. But Seungcheol’s been in her life for less than half a year. He’s her psychologist and historically, she was never able to be vulnerable with the ones before him, even the good ones. None of them ever lasted this long.

But Seungcheol is so delicate with her. So loving. He doesn’t push her to speak tonight; he just talks about his rabbits, he sits patiently while she thumbs through her artwork book, pointing to nonsensical drawings that only children can make.

He’s patient, something that even Jeonghan struggles with.

He makes up what Dasom’s been missing ever since Seoyeon passed.

And Jeonghan knows that, even after such a short amount of time, there will never be any letting him go. That if he were to leave their lives right now, it would break them both. God, it’s such a heavy thing to ask of one person, but something tells Jeonghan that Seungcheol doesn’t _want_ to leave. That if anything tears them apart it will be forces far beyond their control.

It’s been four months and Jeonghan can’t believe the way he feels.

Once it’s sufficiently past Dasom’s bedtime, Seungcheol helps put her to bed, like he did on Wednesday, and then they’re alone in the living room again. It’s late, late enough that Seungcheol should be heading home. But he’s got an arm draped across Jeonghan’s knees, bent above his lap, fingertips brushing against his thigh, along the seam of his jeans; nothing about him seems ready to leave. And Jeonghan is content as the sounds of the streets below fade to the background. There is nothing more important than this moment, than Seungcheol here with him.

And he opens up. He talks about his father, how toxic and manipulative he is, how he spent all of today blaming Seungcheol. Criticizing him. His usual bullshit, apparently, and Jeonghan’s heart hurts for him. He talks about how the therapist he started seeing in high school ended up influencing his plans for the rest of his life.

“I want to help people - kids, teens - the way she helped me,” he murmurs into the darkness that wraps around them the way Jeonghan clings to him. “She changed my life and I… I want to do the same for someone else.”

“You are,” Jeonghan whispers, fingers slowly playing with the fine hairs at the back of Seungcheol’s neck, and there are tears in his throat. “You are, hyung.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond. He kisses him instead, as softly as they speak, and then he leans his forehead against his. “I’m sorry I haven’t texted or called, but I… I’ve been scared. Scared that you would decide that this is too much, that I should stay Dasom’s psychologist and nothing more.”

“I should,” he says after a moment, trying to find the words. “I should decide that because that’s the smart, responsible thing to do, but I can’t. I need you. As wrong as it is… I need you so much.”

“I need you too,” he whispers, lifting his head a bit to kiss Jeonghan’s temple. “I need you both, more than you know.”

He stays until Jeonghan’s breaths even out into something slow and steady; they share a few gentle kisses that aren’t enough to quell the longing in Jeonghan’s soul, and then he’s gone.

Jeonghan sleeps better that night than he has in so long. Far too long.

After that, it’s like someone flips a switch inside Jeonghan and everything about him changes. He wakes up in the mornings with a smile on his face, stomach swirling with butterflies as he responds to Seungcheol’s sweet good morning texts. He sings while he makes breakfast, while he gets himself and Dasom ready for the day. He hums as he grocery shops, giving into Dasom’s pleading eyes a lot easier and they end up a few thousand won over budget because of all the candy he buys her. He’s brighter, more patient. He’s thrumming at work, waiting for Seungcheol to visit.

And he does. Every night that Jeonghan’s at the store.

They sneak kisses where the cameras can’t find them, sitting with their backs against the counter like they always do, except this time there are no textbooks. Now it’s just the two of them and whatever they want to talk about. Or sometimes they don’t talk. Sometimes they have difficult days and nothing makes it better except the presence of the other; except burying himself in the other’s arms, clinging until the bad feelings go away.

Dates are all but out of the question, but sometimes he comes over for dinner and Jeonghan prays that Dasom doesn’t ask why her psychologist is over almost every other night. But Seungcheol keeps any work strictly at the clinic; they don’t talk about her journals, they don’t do exercises or anything like that. They tell stories that never found their place in the office. They show pictures of vacations, of Jeonghan graduating with his bachelor’s degree, of his childhood and birthday parties and random moments taken from Seoyeon’s old Instagram (Jeonghan can’t bring himself to deactivate it).

Seungcheol chooses his favorite picture from this particular collection, one Jeonghan treasures himself. In it, he’s at this same dining table, Dasom on his lap, and his hand covers hers, guiding her pencil across a sheet of paper. They were working on the alphabet together, and Seoyeon had snapped the picture at the best moment: Jeonghan had looked at Dasom to praise her for such good work and the smiles on both of their faces are so wide.

“She has your smile,” Seungcheol comments quietly, fingertips brushing over the photo, one of many he’s printed from Seoyeon’s Instagram, eyes fond and crinkling.

He asks then if he can keep it and Jeonghan can’t say no.

And on those nights, Seungcheol stays as late as he can. He and Jeonghan curl up on the couch after Dasom falls asleep, sharing the same blanket, and sometimes they talk. Sometimes they watch a movie. Sometimes they just kiss, mouths slotting together in a way that feels so perfect, feels like home, and Jeonghan can’t get enough of him. But they never go any further than that. It feels like a promise neither of them is ready to make right now, a commitment they’re both scared of fulfilling because of what it would mean.

Which is why Jeonghan never says “I love you”. Even though he wants to.

Then at the clinic they’re sneaking kisses when Dasom goes to the bathroom. They’re hiding touches while she’s busy with the bunnies. They’re suppressing wide smiles and silly giggles behind their hands every time their eyes meet. And god, Jeonghan feels like a teenager again. He feels young. Happy. Like he doesn’t have a single care. Like he’s indestructible. Like he can take on the world and anything it could throw at him.

In all the conversations they have, they never talk about what they are. They never label it, they never come up with a plan for telling Dasom or their friends. Because that would mean accepting it for what it is: wrong. That would mean commitment and commitment means the possibility of loss. So they continue on in this strange limbo, hiding kisses and touches all while falling so deeply in love that there’s no way either of them would make it out of this unscathed.

Of that, Jeonghan is certain.

The summer passes in the blink of an eye and Seungcheol goes shopping with them for school supplies, spoiling Dasom with flurries of kisses and candy bars that aren’t as secretive as he’d like to think. He walks hand in hand with Jeonghan, as brazen as they’ve ever been in Dasom’s presence, but she doesn’t seem to care. No, she’s scoping out the aisles for anything bunny themed. Notebooks, pencils, binders. If it has a rabbit on it, it goes into the cart.

Jeonghan laments over the amount of supplies that a six year old needs for school, and Seungcheol commiserates with a kiss to his temple.

He’s being gentle with him today, of course he is. Seungcheol has to have a sixth, empathetic sense because somehow he knows Jeonghan is stressed without him needing to voice it. As the school year and the new semester loom, he worries for Dasom. Worries that all the progress they made this summer will be for naught and as soon as she returns to school, she’ll revert. She still struggles with speaking in front of strangers, something that, as Seungcheol reminds him, is perfectly normal. But Jeonghan can’t help the anxiety that gnaws at him still. Some of it is lessened by knowing that Seokmin will be her teacher this year, however that doesn’t mean it will be easier.

Kids can be cruel at this age, something Dasom knows very well, something that Jeonghan cries about one night, face buried in Seungcheol’s shoulder, feeling so hopeless, helpless.

So today, a week before school starts for them both, Seungcheol is gentle with Jeonghan. He’s gentle with Dasom. And it feels like the calm before the storm. It feels like things are going to fall apart and Jeonghan can’t cope with that.

Things have been too happy lately, he notes with a particularly mood-souring note of pessimism. The last bad thing that happened was the anniversary of Seoyeon’s passing, almost a full two months ago. Things never go well for this long and Jeonghan is so tense lately, anticipating an attack he knows he’s not ready for.

He knows Seungcheol notices.

He just hopes Dasom doesn’t.

Things fall apart predictably on the first day of school.

Dasom has a panic attack that Seokmin can’t calm her down from quickly enough, in front of all her classmates. And Jeonghan is stuck in class.

So he does the next best thing, voice wavering with tears he won’t shed in a university hallway, and gives Joshua Seungcheol’s number. It’s Monday, which he works, so all Jeonghan’s expecting is for Joshua to call him, that his voice will be enough to calm Dasom down until Jeonghan can get to her.

But, in such a Seungcheol way, he goes above and beyond.

“Anything for you and Dasom,” he’ll tell him later, and once again, Jeonghan will feel indebted to him.

Joshua isn’t sure what he’s had in mind these last few months whenever Jeonghan mentions this Dr. Choi. He’s not sure what he’s expecting when the psychologist his friend has been crushing on for a while now bursts into his office, tie askew, hair unruly, eyes wide until they land on Dasom curled into herself on a chair made for people three times her size.

But it’s definitely not this guy.

He’s handsome and muscular and comforting as he scoops Dasom into his arms, and she immediately clings to him, tucks her small head into the crook of his neck. Joshua can’t help but wonder just how much time he’s been spending with her and Jeonghan over the last six months or so for her to be so comfortable with him.

“Thank you for calling me, Principal,” he says quietly, pressing kisses into Dasom’s hair. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Half an hour,” he responds from behind his desk, and he feels his eyes narrowing just a bit. There’s something so intimate about the way he holds her, like he’s so used to it. It reminds him of Seokmin and leaves a weird taste in his mouth. Not that this Seungcheol guy is bad news but… but he could be if certain things were to happen.

“Oh baby,” he murmurs as he strokes Dasom’s back. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re all right. You remember how we breathe, Dasommie?”

“Want Hannie.”

He and Joshua both sigh at the same time. Truly, Joshua hates these moments when he feels so helpless. And he knows it’s just a shadow of what Jeonghan feels, what he’s feeling right now, stuck in that classroom. He doesn’t know how he does it.

He also doesn’t know how Seungcheol gets her calmed down so quickly. He murmurs quietly about Jeonghan wanting to be here, that he’s not having a good day at school either, that he’ll be here when he can. And soon enough, Dasom quiets down. She pulls back from Seungcheol’s neck and Joshua gets up to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek, heart fluttering when she offers him a tiny, embarrassed smile in return.

But it disappears as soon as it comes, replaced by the wide-eyed panic in her eyes when Seokmin brought her to him. Joshua glances at Seungcheol, who sighs again, and they both know what she needs. Who she needs.

Jeonghan’s there within forty-five minutes and Dasom bursts into tears the instant she hears him call her name. But then they’re in each other’s arms and something inside Joshua breaks at the scene, the way it always does when he witnesses these moments. He aches to comfort them both, to take away the pain and hurt they both feel. And then Seungcheol reaches out and places his hand on Jeonghan’s, on Dasom’s back. Their eyes meet and Joshua feels like an outsider. Out of place. Because there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can offer that can beat the absolute love in Seungcheol’s gaze.

And he knows why Dasom is so comfortable with him. Why Seungcheol dropped everything to come out here when every other therapist would’ve just communicated over the phone. Why Jeonghan relaxes the moment their hands join, like Seungcheol’s absorbing each of his stresses in a single touch.

He swallows against the lump forming in his throat, against the warnings rising in his being, because Jeonghan can’t afford to get hurt. Dasom can’t afford to lose someone else.

They’re making a huge mistake and there’s no way it won’t come back to haunt them.

If anyone knows this best, it’s Joshua. The firing he faced when he married Seokmin, a teacher employed at his school… it’s a kind of stress he wants to keep from Jeonghan if he can manage it.

“Shua?”

He blinks back into the present, meeting Jeonghan’s gaze, wide and worried beneath knitted brows, and sighs. “Do you want her to stay the rest of the day?”

“I can’t go home yet - “

“She can stay with me, at the clinic, till you can come get her,” Seungcheol says softly, definitively, and Jeonghan nods.

Joshua raises a brow, unable to stop the snap that creeps into his voice, but he doesn’t _like_ this. “Should we add you to Dasom’s emergency contact list then, _Dr. Choi?”_

Jeonghan must notice - of course he does, he’s a father with almost as much anxiety as his baby - because he shoots him a sharp look. But Joshua doesn’t heed it because Jeonghan has to know what a mistake this is.

Seungcheol just nods. “I think we should, yes.”

“Miss Suji can do that for you,” he says.

And Seungcheol apparently reads the room because he gathers Dasom into his arms with a soft “come on, baby” and he heads out into the greater office, door shutting behind him.

Jeonghan wastes no time, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes narrow. But there’s no anger there; just exhaustion. And Joshua feels bad, of course he does. “That was rude.”

“What do you want from me, Jeonghan? You’re in love with your niece’s psychologist. You really think that’s smart?”

He holds Joshua’s gaze for a moment and then he breaks, his face crumbling. Joshua’s up before his tears can start falling, heart aching tenfold as he pulls his friend into his arms. And Jeonghan clings to him, sobbing into his shirt in a way that’s reminiscent of a year ago, when he was so consumed by grief but had no true outlet for it. He remembers the first time he held Jeonghan like this; coincidentally, it was the first day of school last year, and he’d walked out of his office to find a frazzled Jeonghan on the verge of tears with the secretary, trying his best to calm a howling Dasom, who refused to leave his side and go to class.

He’d met Jeonghan a mere few months before, when he’d come with Seoyeon to get Dasom registered for school. Of course he’d heard what happened that June; they’d all had. And he took in Jeonghan’s red-rimmed eyes, his tangled hair and gaunt cheeks and rumpled clothes; he took in Dasom’s cries, the way she begged Jeonghan wordlessly to stay with her - he took in that heartbreaking sight and brought them both into his office, where they could calm down in peace, away from prying eyes.

Everything in him ached to comfort even though he hardly knew these two (he blamed Seokmin’s influence on him and then, funnily enough, he found out later that he and Jeonghan were good friends) and now… now all he wants, still, is to comfort. To take away the pain Jeonghan doesn’t deserve to feel.

He tries his best.

“I know it’s wrong,” Jeonghan sobs into his shoulder, “but I can’t - he - “

“Breathe, Han, it’s okay.”

Joshua isn’t sure how long they stand like this, but he knows it’s a lot longer than it would take the secretary to add Seungcheol to Dasom’s information. They’re left alone still though, and eventually Jeonghan calms down enough to speak.

“He’s so good with her,” he whispers, eyes downcast, voice thick with emotion. “He adores her, Shua. And she adores him. And - and he’s good to me, too. He’s everything I could ever want, and I just… I know it’s wrong. I know we need to stop it or something because he could probably get into trouble or - but I can’t. I love him so much.”

Joshua sighs heavily and gives Jeonghan’s bony shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Listen, you’re smart and responsible and grown up. And so is he. Just be careful, okay? If anything happens, if - if you two choose or have to end things…”

“I know.”

There’s a finality to his tone and Joshua doesn’t push him any further; he just lets Jeonghan go and watches from his office as he rejoins his family.

He knows Jeonghan well enough by now; he knows that he doesn’t love just anybody. All the people in his life have been carefully vetted and selected on the basis that they won’t hurt him or Dasom; that they will love as fully and deeply as they both do, and because of this Joshua feels so blessed to have the relationship he does with them.

He only hopes that Seungcheol feels the same way and that, for everyone’s sake, they find happiness.

He hopes Seungcheol stays, the way Jeonghan and Dasom need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ow


	4. four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shortish one today!
> 
> enjoy! <3

**four.**

Thankfully, Seungcheol doesn’t have many more appointments the rest of the day; he spends most of it just catching up on work while Dasom busies herself drawing or reading. She’s still a bit shaken up but mostly fine; she shows him what she’s working on with the sweetest smiles on her face and it makes Seungcheol’s heart ache.

He can’t get Joshua Hong’s words out of his head, the look on his face, the obvious distaste he holds for the relationship Seungcheol has with Jeonghan.

It _stays_ with him, makes him squirm in his chair just thinking about it.

For the first time in months, the first time since he kissed Jeonghan in June, it feels… it feels wrong. And Seungcheol’s reminded, rather explicitly, that this is highly unprofessional. That he should not be dating Jeonghan. That Dasom should not be here, filling the empty space in his office between clients. That he should not want them both in his life as badly as he does.

He knows their options and none of them is even close to perfect. But they _are_ responsible options; the question is, are they willing to make hard decisions, for Dasom’s sake? For their own?

Near lunch, there’s a knock on the door and Dasom freezes where she sits at the drawing table.

“It’s okay, baby,” Seungcheol says softly, and her shoulders relax some.

But the moment he stands up, she’s there; reaching up to him with stars in her eyes and Seungcheol can’t deny her anything she wants. So he scoops her up into his arms and lets her bury her face in his neck.

She is not his daughter, but he treasures her like one.

And the fact that he has to remind himself that she is not his, that he holds no claim to her; that he is not her caretaker or guardian or father only adds to the anxiety swirling in his gut.

He opens the door.

Mingyu stands there, smiling softly, though it falters a bit when he sees Dasom. “Hey hyung. Are we still on for lunch?”

Seungcheol sighs a bit - not at or because of Mingyu, bless his well-meaning heart - and gently coaxes Dasom to look up at him through her sheet of hair. “Dasommie, is it okay if my colleague joins us for lunch?”

Her lips move silently, trying to sound out the word.

Seungcheol never wants to give her up.

“It means friend, baby,” he says softly. “This is Mingyu. He works with me and he’s my friend.”

She makes a quiet “oh” in understanding and then nods before burrowing back into him, back tensed and breathing a little rushed, a little heavy.

Mingyu, living up to his status in Seungcheol’s mind as the best human on this planet, just stands there holding his lunch bag with a smile on his face, content to wait as long as he needs to.

Seungcheol lets him in and grabs his own lunch and Dasom’s too as best as he can with her clinging to him, and he sits at his desk. Dasom immediately makes herself at home on his lap, ignoring Mingyu, and Cheol knows that Jeonghan would be remiss if he just let her do that. So he gently takes the hand that’s trying to open her lunchbox - so small and soft in his - and kisses it.

“How do we greet strangers, baby?” he asks as kindly as he can, and it brings to memory Dasom quaking in Jeonghan’s tired, frazzled grip, rain clinging to their clothes and hair and Seungcheol’s hoodie.

Dasom shakes her head, and he knows she’s had such a long, trying day already. But sitting in complacency won’t make her any better. And if… if Seungcheol is to pursue something serious with Jeonghan… she’s going to need a new therapist.

Building that trust with Mingyu is going to take ages.

“You can do it, baby girl,” Seungcheol whispers into her hair. “Like we practiced for the school year.”

She takes a shaky breath and lifts her head slowly. Seungcheol pushes her thick, frizzy hair from her eyes, runs his fingers through it as he pulls it back into a ponytail. And Mingyu is smiling softly in that way that makes him look like a puppy. The way that won him over all the moms - some of the dads too - when he started here a few months ago. It’s charming and handsome - _he’s_ charming and handsome, young and funny, one of the most understanding souls Seungcheol has ever met. And he hopes with an ache his chest he knows Jeonghan has held for over a year that they can hit it off. That Dasom can open up to Mingyu the way she does with him.

It would make things exponentially easier. Take some of the guilt off his heart.

“My name is Yoon Dasom,” she recites shakily, trembling in his lap. “I am six years old. I like bunnies.”

She stays still, waiting for Mingyu to introduce himself too.

He does so with a wide, toothy grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dasom-ah. My name is Mingyu. I’m twenty-six years old. And I like bunnies too.”

Her back straightens just the tiniest bit at his words but before she can turn and burrow into him, Seungcheol sweeps her back up into his arms and peppers her face with kisses. Any tension in her small body disappears with the sharp, joyful peals of giggles she lets out, half-heartedly pushing at him when they both know that she adores the attention.

“You, Yoon Dasom, are amazing,” he murmurs, meaning every single word, “and I am so proud of you.”

She kisses the tip of his nose, and everything in Seungcheol hurts.

After eating her lunch, and answering some of Mingyu’s gentle questions with nods or shakes of her head, Dasom falls asleep in his lap and for a few moments, he and Mingyu eat in silence. Seungcheol’s waiting for him to speak up, to say what must be on his mind, and finally it comes.

“She has a different family name,” he says quietly, looking up from his kimchi ramyeon with eyes that are not, in the slightest, judgmental. Curious, if anything. “So she’s not your daughter. Or if she is, she uses her mother’s name.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “She’s… she’s not my daughter.”

He pretends it doesn’t break his heart to say it.

“Niece?”

“No, she… God, you’re gonna think I’m insane. Or stupid. Or both.”

Mingyu immediately shakes his head, with all the youth and kindness in his features. “No way, hyung. Never. You can tell me anything.”

The world does not deserve Kim Mingyu, Seungcheol decides. So with a soft breath, he tells him. “She’s a client. I’ve been seeing her every week since the end of February. I’ve… been dating her guardian since the end of June.”

“Ah.” Mingyu swallows a bite of his ramyeon, nodding silently as he processes this. “Her guardian’s that cute guy, right? With the blonde hair? Kinda skinny, very handsome?”

Seungcheol is highly aware of the hot blush that takes over his features as he thinks about Jeonghan, and he nods. “His name is Jeonghan, and I just… I swear to God I’m in love with him. I don’t know, it’s all happened so fast…”

It feels good to say it out loud though. To put his feelings out there, because he sure as hell isn’t telling Jeonghan any of this. Not yet, anyway.

Mingyu smiles wide. “That’s really sweet, hyung.”

“It’s unprofessional,” he mumbles.

“Even so,” he says around a rather dismissive shrug, “you can’t always help who you love, right?”

When Jeonghan comes to get her, Seungcheol has no appointments for the rest of the day, and he greets him with a kiss that’s a lot more desperate than he wanted it to be. But Jeonghan melts against him all the same, fingers curling in his hair, so warm and soft and everything Seungcheol wants, needs, craves. They pull away, resting their foreheads together, and Seungcheol holds him tight.

“Was she good?” Jeonghan murmurs, eyes straying to where his baby sleeps soundly on the couch.

“Perfect, as always.” He lifts his head a bit to kiss Jeonghan’s temple, just breathing him in. Jeonghan is comfort, he is warmth, he is _home._ “Let’s go, angel. Hmm? You can take her if you want and I’ll grab some takeout and meet you at the apartment.”

He has to remind himself that it’s Jeonghan’s apartment, not theirs.

Jeonghan mutters under his breath but he meets Seungcheol’s eyes with a smile. “You’re always spending your money on us.”

Seungcheol grins, swooping in for a quick peck on the lips. “I can’t help spoiling my two favorite people.”

Together, they wake Dasom. Together, they carry her things and Seungcheol’s things. Together, they bid Seungkwan goodbye. Together, they leave the clinic. And they part with a gentle squeeze of the other’s hand, and Seungcheol knows this is dangerous. He could get in trouble, he could get fired - or worse, something could happen with his license. And if he and Jeonghan were to break up, whether or not they wanted to, he knows it would hurt all three of them. Everything in him screams to just end things before they get too serious. But it’s too late, and he knows that. There’s no giving Jeonghan up, no giving Dasom up. He has no idea how it’s happened in such a short amount of time, but they are a part of him.

And he belongs to them. They hold equal shares of his heart and his mind and his soul.

Which is why he and Jeonghan need to talk.

The night goes by far too quickly and before Jeonghan knows it, they’re putting Dasom to bed. He’s stroking her hair while Seungcheol reads to her, and the light in his eyes makes Jeonghan’s stomach twist. He hates this feeling; it’s dark, foreboding, convoluted and stupid, but if he wants what’s best for his baby and for himself, he needs to listen to it.

Seungcheol doesn’t snuggle with him when they get back to the living room. No, he paces while Jeonghan sits down and he knows what’s weighing on his mind. So he stays where he is, waiting for Seungcheol to make the first move.

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s a whisper in the dark, like a secret he’s been keeping longer than he should, and Jeonghan aches hearing it. He _aches_ because he feels the same and it’s like a ton of bricks is weighing him down, keeping him from what he wants. What he shouldn’t have.

He can’t speak.

“I love Dasom too,” Seungcheol whispers, and his back is to Jeonghan. He can see every tensed muscle, every divot of stress. “I love her so much. Which is why I don’t… I don’t think I should be her psychologist anymore.”

Jeonghan swallows around the lump in his throat, around the dryness in his mouth, and he feels paralyzed. Doesn’t know what to say. “Oh. B-But she needs you.”

“I know. It’s - it’s either that or we break up and I...”

He turns around and there are tears in his eyes and Jeonghan can’t take it anymore; he stands up and brings Seungcheol into his arms. For a moment, they don’t talk. For a moment, everything feels right. For a moment, Jeonghan can pretend that he isn’t selfish. Because if he cared about Dasom at all, he’d end things. Sure it’d be awkward between him and Seungcheol but then she wouldn’t lose her rock. They wouldn’t have to start all over with another therapist again. And knowing their track record… it probably wouldn’t end well.

It also wouldn’t cause her any extra stress.

Jeonghan _is_ selfish, though. He can’t just give Seungcheol up, can’t just let him go. Not when he needs him, too. Not when Seungcheol needs him.

Their mouths meet in a deep kiss, a lot like the one they shared in Seungcheol’s office a few hours ago: desperate and aching. It’s all they have right now, when words fail on their tongues. It’s all they have, even though it’s more than they should want. And Jeonghan loses himself in it, loses himself in the way Seungcheol tastes like the kimbap they had for dinner, Seoyeon’s recipe; the way he smells like Jeonghan’s own cologne; Jeonghan loses himself in the domesticity of it all, in the sinking feeling that Seungcheol is irrevocably a part of him.

“Stay,” he whispers when they part, breathless, fingers curled in his shirt, heart in Seungcheol’s hands. “Stay here with me, Seungcheol. I - we’ll figure things out but I… I can’t lose you.”

Seungcheol responds with a hard kiss, one that steals the breath from Jeonghan’s body, and he breaks. They don’t speak; there’s nothing more to say that they can’t express with their lips, their hands, their bodies. Tugging at each other’s clothes, one of them has the presence of mind to move to Jeonghan’s bedroom and then there’s nothing but touch. The touch of Seungcheol’s lips on his neck, of his cotton t-shirt as Seungcheol lifts it over his head; the touch of their mouths together, of quiet giggles in the silence. The touch of the moonlight spilling in from the open window, painting in their naked bodies in its pale glow. The touch of Seungcheol’s smooth, warm skin under Jeonghan’s tongue, the touch of his stuttered breath near Jeonghan’s ear. The touch of the cool bedsheets against Jeonghan’s palms, as Seungcheol lays beneath him.

And he opens up for Jeonghan with his legs spread wide and the softest of moans that leave Jeonghan trembling, needing more, and he’s so afraid of how strongly he feels. Then Seungcheol takes him inside him in a way that threatens to swallow Jeonghan whole, their bodies moving as one, half-formed sentences melting in the warm, sticky air. In these moments, chasing heavy breaths, thrusts as slow as their heartbeats are quick, they are all that there is. It’s just them, clinging to each other beneath the moonlight, making a commitment they shouldn’t, breathing out vows in between moans and gasps, in between the heat that churns white-hot inside them both.

Jeonghan comes in Seungcheol with their hands clasped, an “I love you” he shouldn’t say ghosted into the warmth of his neck.

Seungcheol spills between their bodies, eyes squeezed shut, sweat on his brow, and he’s the most beautiful man Jeonghan has ever seen.

They clean up quietly and then Jeonghan nuzzles into him, deep beneath the covers. He is vulnerable and bared and he belongs to Seungcheol, the way Seungcheol belongs to him. He is torn open, with his heart exposed for the taking, and he knows Seungcheol will handle him with care. Whatever happens, he will be gentle. He will be kind. And he will adore Jeonghan more and deeper than anyone else has before.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” Seungcheol murmurs.

He leaves before dawn, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Jeonghan doesn’t fall back asleep.

_“How do you know if you’ve met the one, Hannie?”_

_He looks up from his book once he’s realized that Seoyeon’s paused her drama, and meets her wide inquisitive eyes from across the room. “Why are you asking me? I’ve been in love like twice. And neither ended well. Besides,” he smirks a bit as his eyes fall to her baby bump, about five months along now, “most people know they’ve met The One when they have a kid with them.”_

_She sticks her tongue out at him playfully. “That’s mean. But honestly, Hannie - do you think you’ll ever find the one?”_

_For her sake, he pretends to ponder it. “I don’t know, maybe. I’m too young to think about that right now. Especially when I have to raise you_ and _I have a baby on the way. Add school to that, and my hands are too full for any kind of dating.”_

_Seoyeon giggles softly, but she doesn’t press the subject. She just gets back to her drama, saying something about Lee Minho being her perfect man, and Jeonghan would have to agree with that._

"You have beautiful fingers."

Jeonghan giggles softly, melting in the post-sex glow, melting back against Seungcheol's strong chest as he plays with his hands. "That's a line if I ever heard one, hyung."

He kisses Jeonghan's still-damp temple, nuzzling his hair, and something tight and intimate twists in Jeonghan's gut. "It's hardly a line. I love your fingers. They're just so… long and delicate. But they're strong. Like you."

"Definitely a line, you big cheeseball." He can't help it; he giggles so hard he snorts.

And then Seungcheol laughs. And Jeonghan never wants this moment to end.

He likes the way their palms fit together, the way Seungcheol's fingers are thick and pale in between Jeonghan's, long and thin. And then he breathes in. Leans into the perfect warmth that is Seungcheol. Lets himself get lost in how precious this moment is to him, candlelight flickering across their skin, chests rising and falling as one. In this breath, there is nothing more important to Jeonghan than this, than Seungcheol. And in every breath, he aches for what they can't have. He wants so much more than this, he wants Seungcheol to stay the night, but it wouldn't be smart to have him here when Dasom wakes up.

It wouldn't be smart to go to their appointment together, even though he knows it'd make Seungkwan happy.

So Jeonghan swallows back the lump in his throat as Seungcheol slips from the bed. He doesn't let his touch linger the way he wants when they part after a goodbye kiss. He doesn't pout or frown or mope when he walks Seungcheol to the door.

He doesn't sleep well that night, aching for Seungcheol's touch.

They don’t talk about it.

Seungcheol spends an entire two weeks’ worth - fourteen nights straight - in his bed and they don’t really say a word. Why would they, when the desire to worship, to memorize, to touch is so strong? They lose themselves in each other, discovering these little pieces - about the other, about their own selves - they both thought they’d locked up for good. Pieces they never really meant to show anyone else. Then Seungcheol leaves. Every night. And they have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt; every moment together aches more than a single moment apart.

They attend two appointments like this before Seungcheol says that he can’t do this anymore: they need to tell Dasom and they need to find another therapist.

It comes out after dinner that night, after her bath that leaves them all soaking wet; Seungcheol brought the bunnies in an attempt to calm any negative feelings Dasom might have. The five of them are in Jeonghan’s room, where there’s less biting hazards for Bean and Boop, taking up the bed with snuggles and rabbit pets.

And then Jeonghan whispers it into Dasom’s damp hair.

“Baby, Seungcheollie can’t be your therapist anymore.”

She lifts her head from where it’s buried in Bean’s tawny fur and meets his eyes, brows furrowing. “What?”

Seungcheol reaches out to stroke her cheek and she immediately crawls towards him, abandoning her bunny friend for the sort of comfort that only Seungcheol can give. “Will you promise to listen, Dasommie, and wait until I’m done talking?”

She nods quietly.

Jeonghan pets Boop when he hops over, scratching the rabbit’s soft head.

And Bean flops against Dasom’s side.

“I love you so much,” Seungcheol whispers, and his voice thickens with emotion, deep and hoarse. “And I am endlessly proud of you. It hasn’t been easy but you’ve come a long way. I’m glad that you let me be there with you, that you let me help you. You see, baby…” He muffles a sigh into her hair. “Me and - and Hannie are… dating. We’re boyfriends. Sort of like Joshua and Uncle Minnie. And because of that, because we love each other so much, I can’t be your therapist anymore.”

She whines quietly - and without hesitating, Seungcheol is there. He rocks her in his arms, humming a soft tune until she calms back down.

“Listen to me, baby,” he whispers. “That doesn’t mean I won’t be here or that you won’t see me. I’m gonna be here every day, like I have been for awhile now. I’ll bring the bunnies - you can come over and see them too. Baby, all it means is that… you’re gonna get a new therapist.”

The whines start up again and this time, Jeonghan intervenes. He shifts as best as he can, taking care to not squish any bunnies, and he strokes her hair. “You remember Mingyu, baby? Well, he’s Seungcheollie’s closest friend and he’s - he’s an amazing therapist. Just like Seungcheollie. We’re gonna meet him on Saturday - all of us are gonna be there, Sommie, even Cheollie - and we’ll see how it goes.”

His heart aches at going through that again. He remembers the hopelessness of those months, searching for any sort of help. He just hopes that, because of Seungcheol’s influence, she’ll be able to connect with Mingyu too.

Dasom sniffles and lifts her head when Boop pushes at her hand. Slowly, Jeonghan reaches and picks up the rabbit, gently depositing him in the space between Dasom and Seungcheol. She calms down in the bunny’s presence, stroking his soft, dark fur with kind fingers. And then she looks up at Jeonghan.

“Mingyu likes bunnies,” she says softly.

Jeonghan can’t help it; he smiles. “I know, sweet girl. Cheollie told me.”

With that she turns to Seungcheol, who brushes her hair from her face. “Does he have bunnies?”

He shakes his head and presses a kiss to her forehead. “He has a couple little dogs though, and his boyfriend has a cat. They’re all very nice, I promise. And you’ll love Mingyu, baby girl. He won’t push you, he won’t do anything you’re too scared to do. Okay, my love?”

Before she can respond, Boop gets close and his whiskers tickle her nose; she erupts into a fit of giggles that leave the rabbit scampering away and Seungcheol gathers her into his arms. He lifts her shirt and blows air onto her tummy, tickling her as well, and her shrieks of laughter fill Jeonghan’s bedroom.

It’s a beautiful sound, one he will never, ever get tired of.

_“You’re really helping her raise it, aren’t you?”_

_He rolls his eyes as he continues to set the table, not even sparing his mother a glance. She’s lucky he even came here in the first place, after all her guilt-tripping about it being his father’s birthday and “we haven’t seen you in months, Jeonghan; not since we disowned our youngest for getting pregnant out of wedlock.”_

_Well, he added that last part._

_“Of course I am, eomma,” he says. “She’s my sister. What am I supposed to do, kick her out and leave her homeless? Like you?”_

_His mother sighs from where she finishes up the seaweed soup. “That’s not fair, Jeonghan. Your father and I - “_

_He can’t help it. He sets the stack of bowls down rather sharply; their ceramic clang echoes through the kitchen. And he stares at his mother, the woman who gave birth to him and Seoyeon. The woman who looked her daughter in the eyes and cast her out. “Bullshit ‘not fair’. You want to talk not fair? You kicked Seoyeon out when she needed you most. And for what? A mistake?”_

_“Jeonghan.”_

_His father’s sharp voice catches his attention and he turns towards the staircase he’s emerging from. There’s is nothing redeeming in his father’s gaze; only punishing. It sickens him. “What are you gonna do, abeoji? Throw me out? Disown me too?” He scoffs. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”_

_He doesn’t look back._

Kim Mingyu is a perfectly wonderful young man; the same age as Jeonghan, graduated a year early thanks to high marks and an intelligence that seems unfair paired with that much height and such good looks. And yet, sitting in his office, Seungcheol squeezing his sweaty hand, anxiety churns in his chest. Dasom is on Seungcheol’s lap, a nice change of pace, and Mingyu smiles at them. The walls of his office are similar to Seungcheol’s - drawings and coloring book pages stuck to the stucco. Posters of animals, postcards from a million different places.

Dasom plays with Seungcheol’s fingers.

“A little birdie told me you like animals, Dasom-ah,” Mingyu says softly, around a toothy grin. “I don’t have rabbits but I do have puppies. And a cat. Do you want to see?”

It’s the perfect icebreaker and Dasom eagerly reaches for Mingyu’s phone, the insatiable little devil that she is.

And so they spend this first hour, getting acclimated to each other’s presence.

It’s so familiar and warm, Jeonghan’s heart aches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all righty, the last part is coming in about 3 weeks, for our lovely jeonghan's birthday. stay tuned! <3


	5. five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go,,, the last part. fair warning, i made myself Cry,,,, a Lot,,,,

**five.**

“Happy birthday, Hannie!”

Jeonghan’s jolted from his rather peaceful rest by a tiny body clambering over his own, big wet kisses all over his face, and a voice, rough and deep with sleep, quietly telling Dasom to be a little more gentle.

It’s the perfect start to this day, as perfect as a twenty-seventh birthday can be.

Eyes still closed, he wraps his arms around Dasom and pulls her as close as he can to shower her own face with kisses. She giggles and squeals, squirming in his arms in a useless attempt to get away; he has no intentions of letting her go, content to smother her in his love as best as he can. Nearby, he can make out Seungcheol’s laughter too, sweet and musical first thing in the morning. A sound he’ll never tire of.

“If you’re waking me up this early,” Jeonghan says against Dasom’s forehead, “you better have made me breakfast, stinker.”

She pushes at his face with her tiny hands, grinning wide, and his heart feels so full it might just burst. “But I can’t cook, Hannie.”

He fixes her with a look that falters immediately, a smile playing at his lips. “Then why’d you wake me up, rude girl?”

“Cheollie cooked,” she giggles.

Jeonghan looks over at his boyfriend, standing beside them with the sweetest, fondest look on his face. Hair mussed and eyes still heavy with sleep, clothes rumpled and hardly matching, he’s the only person Jeonghan ever wants to wake up to. Him, and Dasom. “Did you really cook?” he asks softly.

“Of course I did,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss Jeonghan’s temple. “Don’t sound so surprised.” And then he shifts to lift Dasom from Jeonghan’s lap, nuzzling her hair for a moment. “Why don’t you go make your bed, baby girl, and then meet me in the kitchen, so we can bring Hannie breakfast together?”

She nods eagerly, almost seven years old and literally jumping at the chance to be “an adult” (as much as pulling covers back up one’s bed makes one an adult); Seungcheol can’t put her down fast enough and then she’s literally racing out of the room without another word.

Jeonghan meets Seungcheol’s gaze and they share a fit of soft laughter at their baby’s antics. And then Seungcheol’s approaching the bed.

“What do you want to do today, darling?” he murmurs as he sits down next to Jeonghan, eyes not so subtly wandering to his lips.

And the happily in love twenty-seven year old in Jeonghan wants to call Joshua and ask him to babysit so he can spend his entire birthday in bed with his boyfriend. But the father in him wants nothing more than to curl up on the couch with Dasom  _ and _ Seungcheol and watch movies. It’s this part that wins eventually, yet with a slow, deep kiss he decides to entertain the dumb kid in him for a while.

“I want to be lazy today,” he whispers against Seungcheol’s lips, reaching out to run his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want to watch stupid movies and eat crappy food and then tonight I want you to top.”

Seungcheol grins as one of his hands skims down Jeonghan’s bare thigh, towards the edge of the shorts he’s got on. His touch is electric, breathing life and love into Jeonghan’s lungs. “I see. And what if I don’t want to top tonight?”

They share another kiss, just a soft press of their mouths that leaves Jeonghan reeling as much as anything deeper would. “But it’s my birthday,” he pouts upon pulling back, “and I want it. Please?”

Instead of responding, Seungcheol starts brushing kisses into Jeonghan’s skin, following the curve of his throat as he gently shifts their bodies down onto the bed. And Jeonghan relishes in the sensation of being pressed into the mattress, Seungcheol’s strong body above his, mouth tracing the most sensitive parts of his neck and shoulders. It’s not often that they have the time to do this, and he’s expecting Dasom to either call for Seungcheol or come busting in like she owns the place.

But for now, it’s just them and Jeonghan wants to savor it.

He lays back as Seungcheol moves above him, lips stroking over the dip of his collarbones, Jeonghan’s hands finding bare skin beneath Seungcheol’s t-shirt. “How long do you think we have?” he murmurs.

“Three more minutes, if we’re lucky,” Seungcheol says into the hollow of his throat. “So don’t even think about getting hard, love, because you’ll be taking care of it by yourself.”

Jeonghan laughs softly, greeting Seungcheol with a smile when he lifts his head, perches his cheek in his palm, elbow next to Jeonghan’s head on the pillow. Honestly, sex isn’t really on his mind anymore. Not with Seungcheol’s sweet gaze making his heart flutter like this. “You’d really abandon me and my boner on my  _ birthday? _ How rude.”

“Hey, you did the same thing to me the other night - “

“Of course I did!  _ King of the Masked Singer _ was on and I - “

“Cheollie!! I’m ready!!”

And with that, their alone time is effectively over. But that means Jeonghan gets food, so really he’s not complaining when he’s left chilly after the warmth of Seungcheol’s body is gone. He just burrows under the covers for a few moments, listening with love in his heart as Dasom talks with Seungcheol. Even from the bedroom, he can hear her sweet voice, telling him about the dream she had last night. Sometimes he can’t believe that they’ve only known Seungcheol for just over seven months. That he’s been in their lives for less than a  _ year _ and Dasom’s so enamored with him. Somehow he’s gotten past her walls and her trauma and has found himself stuck in her heart.

Jeonghan couldn’t be happier.

Especially since the love she holds for Seungcheol has led her to open up to Mingyu  _ exponentially _ quicker.

A few days ago, their most recent appointment, Jeonghan had been telling a story about her. But apparently his memory was serving him wrong because halfway through the story she’d huffed, gotten up from the drawing table in Mingyu’s office (abandoning her partially colored picture of Mingyu’s boyfriend’s cat in the process), and proceeded to tell Mingyu her version of the events in question.

All without being prompted.

They were the first words she’d ever spoken to him and she did so with as much gusto and passion as she did with Jeonghan, with Seungcheol at home. Of course immediately after she’d smacked her hand over her mouth and ran over to find comfort and hide herself in Seungcheol’s neck. But it’d  _ happened, _ and Mingyu simply stared at her back in awe and adoration.

Ah yes, another development: Mingyu’s as madly in love with her as Seungcheol is. And Jeonghan can’t really blame them. Dasom is as sweet and perfect as kids come, even in her sassiest moments.

After that particular sassy moment, Seungcheol had cried when he and Jeonghan were alone that night. Heart full of love and affection, he’d whispered brokenly that he was so proud of Dasom.

Jeonghan wondered how they got so lucky, landing an absolute perfect man like Choi Seungcheol.

Honestly, he wonders that every day.

So they eat breakfast in bed, after which they spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in their pajamas, alternating between napping on the couch and watching movies. Just like Jeonghan wanted. And then Seokmin and Joshua surprise them with dinner (which eventually leads to a passive-aggressive battle between Seok and Seungcheol for Dasom’s affections) and the evening finds all five of them spread out around the living room, stomachs full and hearts warm. Jeonghan opens presents - the one he knows he’ll treasure the most is a framed picture Seungcheol got him, of Dasom with the bunnies in the office - and then it’s cake time.

By eight-thirty that night, Dasom’s sound asleep, Joshua and Seokmin are on their way home, and Jeonghan’s all but passing out in Seungcheol’s arms. The last thing he remembers saying before actually falling asleep is “you owe me dick in the morning.”

And the last thing he remembers hearing is Seungcheol’s bright laughter.

The weather turns even colder and Jeonghan dedicates more and more of his time to his studies. With only a few weeks left till graduation, he comes home every evening and lets Dasom snuggle up next to him and his laptop. And then when Seungcheol’s done with work he cuddles against Jeonghan’s other side, helping out where he can. But mostly he offers his silent - sometimes  _ very _ vocal - support.

Dasom opens up even more to Mingyu as the weeks go on, chattering about her Christmas list and the new friend she’s made at school (you bet Jeonghan cried when he first heard about her, a patient, outgoing saint named Jiwoo) and the books they’re reading. And everyday she writes in her journals. Everyday she draws and does her homework and reads and goes to school and falls asleep at a good time, with her rabbit plushies.

Everyday she gets closer and closer to the life Jeonghan’s always wanted for her; a “normal” one. Free of anxiety and fear and solitude. Free of worries that a six - almost seven year old - shouldn’t have.

She’s all smiles when Jeonghan graduates, greeting him with a big wet kiss when he finds them after the ceremony, an elated sort of adrenaline thrumming through his veins. And she even sticks around during the small get-together they throw afterwards, mostly just to bask in Seokmin’s love and adoration. But the fact that she’s there nonetheless and not hiding in her room… well, it only adds to Jeonghan’s happiness.

And then Christmas. They spend part of it with Seungcheol’s mother (who’s left his shitty father) and Dasom makes small talk with one of his little cousins about the family dog. She even  _ laughs _ at dinner.

It’s a huge step, and all Jeonghan really wants for Christmas.

But he, and Dasom, are surprised with a trip to Tokyo to finish out her winter break; it’s presented by a cheeky Seungcheol who decides to tell Dasom about a little place called Tokyo Disneyland.

So Jeonghan spends a few days surrounded by loud little kids and lines and people. Lots of people.

Dasom eats it  _ up. _ She goes on as many rides as she can, shrieking laughter and clinging to Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s hands. She meets as many characters as she can, hardly deterred by the crowds. Though there are a few instances in which it becomes too much, but other than that… she has _ fun, _ like a normal six year old.

Jeonghan will treasure that trip for the rest of his life. Mostly because in those little moments, seeing the pure joy on Seungcheol’s face as he watches Dasom take it all in, Jeonghan decides that he wants to spend forever with Seungcheol. Wants to do this with him forever. Wants to hold his hand and kiss him and wake up to him and raise Dasom with him and  _ love him _ forever. Wants to  _ be loved _ by him forever.

They take her and Jiwoo to the zoo for her seventh birthday, and she determines that Jiwoo is her best friend.

Jeonghan determines that Seungcheol is the best thing that’s ever happened to them. He whispers it against his lips that night, Dasom’s giggles mixing with Jiwoo’s on the other side of the wall.

Sometimes, he and Seungcheol argue. Sometimes, one of them is too tired or they’re stressed about something or whatever, and they snap. But not once do they go to bed angry. No matter how bad it was, they come back together that same night and burrow in each other’s warmth, in each other’s unconditional love. And they apologize for whatever they said, whatever they did.

They fall asleep with “I love you” on their lips, spoken through gentle kisses.

Closer to summer, Mingyu recommends cutting back their meetings to every other week; Dasom doesn’t really need weekly therapy now.

Seungcheol’s there again June twenty-fourth, two years since Seoyeon passed. And just like the year before, he’s so gentle with them both.

The only difference is this year? This year, Dasom listens to the stories. She looks at the pictures. She cries over her mother in hollow, wracking sobs that threaten to break even the strongest of Jeonghan’s resolves, clinging to Seungcheol in a way that leaves him teary-eyed.

He and Jeonghan celebrate their first anniversary the next day by asking Dasom if she’d be okay with Seungcheol moving in with them.

After that, time really seems to speed up and Jeonghan can barely keep track of the days anymore, in the best way. He starts his first teaching job at the local high school. He’s there when Seokmin and Joshua’s baby is born, hugging and kissing and crying with his friends as they welcome such a sweet, pure love into their lives.

(And he fails in hiding a blush when Seokmin’s amazing sister jokingly asks when she’s carrying a baby for him.)

He’s there with a pounding heart and shaking hands and a wide smile when Dasom participates in her school’s fall play. She has a teeny, non-speaking role, as suggested by Mingyu, and the terror is obvious on her poor little face the entire time she’s onstage. But Jeonghan’s proud of her all the same, sweeping her up into his arms afterwards with a flurry of kisses that leave her giggling and all but calmed.

He’s there for every moment of joy, every moment of stress or fear or contentment. He’s there whenever Dasom needs him, like he always has been.

But most importantly, so is Seungcheol. Without fail, he is by Jeonghan’s side through everything. He is by Dasom’s side through everything. He is their biggest support, their biggest love.

Even through the bad days.

The phone calls Jeonghan gets, the one he thinks are from his father, increase in quantity. And he never picks them up. Nor does he block the number, not even after six calls in the same day, just before winter break.

Seungcheol wants what’s best for him, and he gently - always gently - tells Jeonghan to just block the calls. To shut out that part of his life and just move on. In the end, it’ll be so much better for him than the rising anxiety that comes with every call. And Jeonghan knows he’s right; of course Seungcheol’s right. If anyone knows toxic fathers it’s him. But Jeonghan can’t seem to bring himself to actually block the number. Not when it’s the last piece of his parents that he has, intrusive as it is.

That Christmas Eve, Jeonghan makes up some excuse about running a last minute errand, and he’s not surprised to find that his parents still live in the same house. They’ve always been creatures of habit, stuck in their own ways, detrimental as those ways usually were.

But he  _ is _ surprised when he sees a couple kids running out in the front yard.

Girls.

They look  _ just _ like Seoyeon.

And as he watches them, chasing each other throw the snow, laughter loud enough that it echoes over the soft rumble of his car, his heart hurts. They look so young, maybe five years old, and he wonders when his parents were going to tell him.

The front door opens and he watches as his father walks out, dashing after the girls and sweeping them up into his arms easily. He kisses their heads and murmurs something, and there’s… there’s love in his eyes. Love Jeonghan has never seen looking back at him in that dark gaze.

Even now, it melts away as they regard each other from across the street, across almost thirty years of pain and pretending and misunderstandings blown out of proportion.

Jeonghan knows he should be upset. He should be angry. He should feel betrayed. And he has every right to be.

But he’s  _ not. _

His parents have their own family now, and he has his.

Taking a deep breath, he puts the car in drive and pulls out onto the street. And he doesn’t look back.

A couple years pass, and Seungcheol stays. A couple years pass, and Dasom grows up. More and more she comes out of her shell, and not because she’s asked to. No, she comes out of her shell to pursue a love of theater. She comes out of her shell to spend time with Seungcheol’s little cousin. She comes out her shell to read to Joshua and Seokmin’s toddler.

She comes out of her shell to sleep over at Jiwoo’s house so Jeonghan and Seungcheol can go out of town for their fourth anniversary.

Jeonghan takes him to Japan for a week and they spend most of it in their bed, taking advantage of a kid-free environment, or exploring together. And Jeonghan falls in love with him all over again. Holding his hand as they experience so many new things together, he comes to a decision he first made two and a half years ago in Tokyo.

They’re on a beach their last night, watching the sunset, when Jeonghan proposes. He doesn’t get on his knees; he just reaches for Seungcheol’s hand and fishes the ring box from his pocket.

“I love you so much,” he whispers as Seungcheol’s eyes fill with tears. “And Dasom loves you too. More than I thought she could love someone. But you are so impossibly perfect she just… she fell for you. And I did too.” He squeezes Seungcheol’s hand as a lump forms in his throat; overcome with the love he holds for the man in front of him, Jeonghan takes a shaky breath. He can’t find the words he needs to say, the words Seungcheol needs to hear. But he tries anyway. “I have a lot of regrets,” he whispers, “but you are not one of them. You never have been. And I want you for the rest of my life. I want you to raise Dasom with me, maybe some kids of our own eventually. I-I want you to be my husband, Seungcheol.”

“I want that too,” he whispers in a voice thick with emotion, pulling Jeonghan close so that their foreheads are touching. “It’s all I want, love.”

“Then marry me,” Jeonghan murmurs, and he’s never been so sure of anything else in his life. “Marry me, Seungcheol.”

His response is a kiss, a kiss that leaves Jeonghan’s knees weak and his heart pounding and his head swimming. A kiss that they both melt into, warmed in their love and the summer evening.

Dasom squeals when they tell her, hugging them both so tightly, and with her they plan a winter wedding. Something small and intimate and quick because Jeonghan can’t stand the fact that he’s not married to Seungcheol yet.

Something Seoyeon would’ve loved.

The day of the wedding, just before Christmas, Jeonghan wakes up crying.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of his life; he’s finally marrying Seungcheol - but he feels so empty. Like he’s missing a part of himself he desperately needs.

He opens up in Seungcheol’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder, missing Seoyeon more than he has in years.

“She was supposed to be here,” he manages between hitching breaths, trying to focus on Seungcheol’s soothing touch, fingers stroking shapes into his back. “We - we made  _ plans _ for this, Seungcheol. She… she… she’s supposed to be here, watching me get married. But she’s not - she’s not and it’s not fair…”

And Seungcheol just holds him through it, always kind, always comforting. Always exactly what he needs, even if he still feels an aching sort of hollowness in his chest at the altar, wishing Seoyeon could be here, sitting amongst his favorite people in Joshua and Seokmin’s perfectly decorated backyard. But it’s enough that Dasom’s here, sitting with Jiwoo. It’s enough that Joshua and Seokmin are here with their sweet son. It’s enough that his friends from work are here, it’s enough that Mingyu’s here with his boyfriend. And as he faces Seungcheol, more than ready to marry this man, the love of his life, a stray tear slips down his cheek.

Seungcheol catches it with his thumb, smiling softly, and Jeonghan’s heart swells.

They’re married in a few words, both of them far too emotional to actually make it through any lengthy vows. And then they all move inside for the reception. Good food, good music, good company - Jeonghan’s exhausted after a couple hours, relegating himself to the back of the room, watching his loved ones enjoying themselves.

After a few minutes of solitude, he’s joined by Dasom. She sits on the chair beside him; almost eleven years old and too cool to sit on his lap now. But he gets it, of course he does.

She’s growing up.

“I heard you this morning,” she says softly, looking so much like her mother right now that it makes his heart hurt. “Crying about eomma.”

Jeonghan smiles softly, reaching out to brush pieces of hair out of her eyes. “She and I talked about me getting married every so often. I mean, she said she was against it for herself but she always wanted to see me settle down. Always wanted to see me with the right guy.” His smile widens as the memories touch his mind, even with the lump starting to form in his throat. “She said she wanted you to have three parents: her, me, and the man I married.”

Dasom’s lower lip trembles and she looks away, towards the group of their friends and family enjoying themselves. And Jeonghan follows her gaze; Seungcheol’s holding tight to Joshua and Seokmin’s kiddo so they can dance, and he’s talking with Mingyu. He just… he looks so happy, and Jeonghan can’t believe how lucky he is to be his husband.

“She’s here, you know?” Dasom whispers suddenly, almost lost to the slow ballad playing over the speakers. “I mean, like in spirit or whatever.”

Jeonghan sighs softly and reaches out to wrap his arm around her shoulder; she rests her head against him, breathing in deeply. “I think she is too, baby. She wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Do you think she’d like Cheollie?”

“I know she would,” he whispers, stroking Dasom’s thick hair the way he would when she’d have panic attacks, years ago. It still feels so instinctual. “Even if she just liked teasing him because she was kind of evil like that - yeah, she’d definitely like him.”

Dasom giggles around a sniffle. “I’m glad you two made it. I really like him, too.”

Jeonghan breathes in and it hitches around the lump in his throat. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how happy it makes me to hear that, baby.” And he shifts a bit to kiss her head, trying to hold back his tears. He’s always hated crying in Dasom’s presence, has always tried not to if he can help it… and then she sniffles again. And again.

“It’s not fair,” she whispers, lifting her head and meeting his gaze with misty eyes, breaking his heart so easily. “I miss her.”

“I miss her too,” Jeonghan murmurs and his voice cracks. “And she should be here but… she’s not. And we can’t focus on that, baby. We - we have to focus on the people around us and remember that no matter what, she always loved us.”

Dasom nods, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. Jeonghan does too, both of them laughing softly when their fingers come back tinged with black mascara that’s definitely not waterproof. And then she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him so tight.

“I love you, Hannie,” she whispers.

And he holds her like he’s never adored someone more. He holds her like she is his world, like she’s the greatest thing he’s ever done. “I love you so much, Dasom. I always will.”

They stay like that until Jiwoo comes to collect her friend, pulling her laughing onto the makeshift dance floor. And Jeonghan’s left to wipe away his own tears.

But not for long.

Seungcheol comes over a few minutes later, plopping down in the chair Dasom vacated with a heavy sigh, and reaches for his hand. Wordlessly, he brushes kisses on each of Jeonghan’s knuckles and then turns his hand over to kiss his palm. And Jeonghan lets him, closing his eyes as Seungcheol soothes him.

“I know today has been bittersweet for you, love,” he whispers into Jeonghan’s skin, “and I’m sorry. I wish she was here with you.”

Jeonghan breathes in, he breathes out. He pictures Seoyeon and her sweet smile and the way she always knew what to say - how wise she seemed even though she was the younger sibling. He remembers how she was with Dasom, how fully and sincerely she adored her daughter. He remembers how hard those first few months without her were, how he’d curse and cry sometimes because he didn’t understand why she had to die. “I don’t,” he whispers. “I mean, I do. Of course I do. But… I’ve learned how to live without her. Dasom’s learned how to live without her. And that’s okay. We’re okay. You know?”

“I do.” Seungcheol kisses his fingertips and they descend into silence, watching their loved ones, their family.

This time of day, the cemetery is quiet, all but empty. Peaceful, really. And Jeonghan takes his time as he walks. The morning air, crisp and warm with a summer breeze, is refreshing and he breathes it in, letting it fill his lungs like a fresh start.

Like letting go.

He finds Seoyeon easily enough and sits in front of her quietly. And at first, he doesn’t speak. He just looks at her headstone, at the words he had etched into stone.  _ Devoted mother, treasured sister. _

“I’m sorry I don’t visit as often as I should,” he whispers. “But it’s hard to find the time. I’m - I’m so busy now. You know, work and appointments and… and kids.” A soft sighs leaves his lips, lost to the gentle wind. “Five years feels like such a long time but it-it also doesn’t. I just… when Cheol reminded me that it was coming up, I… I couldn’t believe it at first. Five years?”

He breathes in, and out. It shudders.

“Dasom’s so beautiful, sprout,” he murmurs. “She turned eleven this year and - and I mean, she had a big party. Like, fifteen friends. I fucking cried when she told me. She’s doing so well, she’s so perfect. You’d be so proud of her.”

He tells Dasom that every day.

“I think you’d be proud of me too,” he whispers. “I graduted and I got married and I have kids and I turned thirty… I’m all grown up now, sprout. I own a house and everything. And um, Seungcheol and I just adopted a baby. A girl. He said we should name her after you so we - we did.”

He breathes again, and it trembles again. It’s hard, around the knot in his throat, in his chest.

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my sprout. But god, she’s so sweet. I just… oh, what was it you said when - when you held Dasom for the first time? That she just felt  _ right, _ like she belonged with you, in your arms? Yeah, little Seoyeon feels like that too. And Seungcheol adores her. He’s so perfect with her, with Dasom. With me, too. I don’t think I’ll love anyone as much as I love him.”

And here, words fail. He isn’t sure what he wants to say; he just reaches out and he touches the words carved into the headstone. They’re cold beneath his fingertips.

His phone rings and he answers the call with a smile.

“Hey baby,” Seungcheol says softly, sounding like home and sunshine. “Are you ready for us to come meet you?”

“Yeah,” he responds. “I’m ready.”

“We’ll see you soon then, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, and he feels it in his heart, in his soul.

Maybe twenty minutes later, Seungcheol arrives with Dasom and baby Seoyeon and they all sit in front of the headstone, Jeonghan cradling his little daughter in his arms. And none of them speak; there are no words, nothing that needs to be said.

Dasom sits in Seungcheol’s lap, holding tight to the arm he wraps around her, just like she did when she was little. Her eyes brim with tears. And Seungcheol’s other arm winds its way around Jeonghan to draw him and Seoyeon close.

They stay like this for as long as they can, clinging to each other, swallowing tears that they won’t shed because Seoyeon doesn’t want them. No, today is a happy day. Today they’re together, the five of them.

“Thank you for being here,” Jeonghan whispers, tilting his head to kiss Seungcheol’s already greying temple.

“Of course, love,” he murmurs, and their noses brush as they turn towards each other. “I’m always here for you.”

“I know you are.” He settles against Seungcheol with a soft sigh, one of Dasom’s hands coming up to hold his. And baby Seoyeon squirms in his arms, gurling as she looks up at him with the most beautiful brown eyes.

“Sommie,” he murmurs, “do you remember that day when your mother tried to bake cookies and she almost burned down our apartment?”

Her giggle is like music to his ears, and he strokes her hand in his. “Barely! I was, like, four right?”

“Sounds like she got her baking skills from you, Hannie,” Seungcheol says with a shit-eating grin, and warmth fills Jeonghan’s body just like it does every time he looks at his husband.

“I’m getting better,” he retorts. “I made that cake for Mingyu’s birthday and it turned out all right, didn’t it?”

Seungcheol looks at Dasom and they erupt into laughter that echoes off of the trees. “That’s just what he told you!” Dasom says.

“Yeah, he’s too nice to say anything otherwise,” Seungcheol agrees, kissing Jeonghan’s temple as if that will make up for this insult against him.

“Whatever,” Jeonghan huffs. “Mingyu loves my baking. Anyway, I was telling a story before I was so rudely interrupted.”

Seungcheol grins, his cheeks turning the softest shade of pink. He’s so  _ handsome. _ “Go ahead, baby. Seoyeon almost burned down the kitchen…”

Once again, Jeonghan snuggles against his husband, bringing his baby up to his shoulder to kiss the fine hairs on her head. And he tells the story. He talks for as long as he can, spurred on by the adoration in Seungcheol’s eyes, the fondness and nostalgia in Dasom’s. He talks until he feels at peace, wrapped in warmth and love.

He talks, happiness swelling in his heart.

And when he finishes, they descend into quiet once more. Seungcheol nuzzles his head with a soft sigh. “Should we head home? Get some lunch?”

_ Devoted mother. Treasured sister. _

He smiles and leans against his husband. “Let’s stay here just a bit longer, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man what a ride this fic has been! i had no idea such an innocent tweet would've led to this but i am so glad it did! i love this fic; it's been such a joy and pleasure to ride. and i am so eternally grateful for all of the love and support this au has received. thank you all so much! <3

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/scoups__ahoy) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/scoups__ahoy) | [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/serenawrites)!
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


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